


Transient Life

by AndyAO3



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, I can't believe there's a tag for that, Implied Sexual Content, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Build, Some Humor, Young R76
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10090544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyAO3/pseuds/AndyAO3
Summary: Gabriel is fairly certain his magic is the most useless kind of magic that anyone could ever have. Whether this is true or not is up for debate, but to him it's nothing special.Except for when it drops something special into his lap, anyway.





	1. avenue

**Author's Note:**

> Every time I explain this fic concept to someone, I start it with "have you heard of Pygmalion?" and go from there. Because that's basically what this is. I've been working on it for a while now, trying to get all the details and mechanics down; when I did eventually start writing it, I made sure to get a ways in before I even considered posting because I didn't want it to be abandoned (rest assured, I'm seven and a half chapters into this dang thing).
> 
> So, there you go. An exercise in worldbuilding and a character study, all in one. ONWARDS.

It was a hot, humid night, and Gabriel let out a tired kind of sigh as he fiddled with the thermostat and resigned himself to the notion that his AC had probably died again. Too late to call maintenance, and too early in the year to even want to bother with it yet anyway; he gave the ancient wall unit a halfhearted smack with the heel of his palm, part of him hoping that maybe it'd shudder back to life. When it didn't, he decided that he didn't give enough of a fuck to keep messing with it, and gave up for the sake of wandering into the kitchen to stick his head in the freezer.

Of all the witchy sorts of powers he could've had, magicking an AC unit back to life was not one of them. Nor was temperature control, or the ability to make ice out of thin air, or water-bending. No, all he could do was bring his damn art to life-- and that came with enough strings attatched that no amount of creativity could save him from the oppressive LA heat, not even after years of art school.

Besides, the heat wouldn't be good for trying to paint anyways. Maybe pastels or charcoal, or even watercolor, but he wasn't in the mood for that much of a mess.

A knock at the door had him looking up from the freezer, squinting for a moment. It took several seconds of internal debate for him to work up the ambition to do anything about it. "Who is it?" he called out.

"Just me," came the reply; Ana, as usual. Gabriel rolled his eyes as she continued, "I think your phone might be turned off again."

No, it was just on silent. Then again, it was also on his desk next to his computer and his car keys, so if it'd gone off, he probably wouldn't have noticed anyway; he'd been in the living room. Sighing, he closed up his fridge and made his way to the entryway, scuffing his feet against the carpet. Maybe if he worked up enough static, he'd be able to zap her and act like it was an accident.

Ehh, too much effort.

He undid the chain lock and opened the door to give her a bland look. "Hi."

Ana smiled, batting her long, pretty eyelashes at him. "May I come in?"

"Sure." Not like he was doing anything. He stepped aside so she could come in, then closed the door behind her once she had. Ana was neither especially tall nor especially short, but she was graceful and slim enough to seem dainty, especially next to a tall, broad guy like Gabriel. She had long, narrow features, and her hair was hidden by an artfully arranged hijab (the color of which was, at that moment, a dark midnight blue; Gabriel figured she must have one for every outfit and occasion).

Oh, and she was a witch too. There was that. "Have you gotten a new tablet yet?" she asked, heading over to the kitchenette and pulling up a barstool at the counter. She had a knack for making herself look like she was right at home no matter where she was.

She also had a knack for asking questions Gabriel didn't have adequate answers to. "Not yet," he replied, wandering over to the fridge again. "Drink?"

"That would be lovely. Must you keep your apartment so warm?"

"AC's broken." He pulled out a coke for himself and the bottle of red wine he kept for guests (usually his mom) for Ana, taking a moment to get a glass from the cupboard as well. Not a proper wine glass, but it'd do. "Here."

The bottle and glass were taken off his hands within moments. "You're too kind, Gabriel."

Only because they lived in the same building and he didn't have to worry about her driving home drunk. "Fareeha with her father?" he asked her.

"Mm. For the weekend, anyway." Filling the glass to the halfway mark, she set the bottle down and lifted the glass by the brim with elegant fingers, idly sloshing its contents. "So you don't have a working tablet at the moment, I'm guessing?"

"You're not buying me a tablet," Gabriel told her flatly.

"Of course I'm not. That would be silly." She sipped carefully at her wine, crinkling her nose for a moment at the taste but saying nothing. "But if I were to get a new one for myself, I wouldn't be opposed to giving you my old one as a gift."

Gabriel leaned against the counter and considered. "I don't like using a tablet," he admitted. "Digital art's got no substance, and I can't make the spellcraft work on prints like you can."

" _No substance_ , he says," she scoffed. "If nothing else, you can use it for sketches. Rough drafts. Think of the money you could save on sketchbooks, or pencils, or charcoal."

"I'm fine, Ana."

"And anyway, have you even tried using your magic on digital art? You could be an animator without having to learn how to animate anything."

"That's not how it works."

"You need _something_ , Gabriel. You're stagnating as it is."

"It's called a sabbatical. I had a big project, and now that it's done, I'm taking a break to do commissions."

"A break, or a depressive funk?" Gabriel had no answer; she softened just enough to smile at him. "I know how difficult it's been lately. It's not easy to muster creative energy when every outlet one has for it might inadvertantly paint a target on one's back just by getting noticed."

Gabriel winced. "I didn't say that--"

"Hush." Another sip, and this time Ana didn't cringe quite as badly at the taste. "Besides, bland commissions and the occasional feature in a gallery are good for putting money on the table, but terrible for reminding oneself of one's talent as an artist - I know, I've been at this longer than you have, don't argue with me - and it's made worse for the fact that your gifts are going completely unused in the process. Thus, you end up stagnating, and all the magic that isn't allowed to flow just gathers and gathers like a clog in a pipe."

"Ana..."

"You need an outlet, Gabriel. Neither art nor magic is the sort of thing that can be simply picked up again if allowed to languish."

He peered at her for several seconds. "--You're doing this because you want me to owe you, aren't you."

"Me?" Ana gasped and put on her best horrified look. "I would never."

"Yes, you would. You're trying to badger me into accepting help so you can call in a favor later." He folded his arms. "It's not going to work. I know your tricks."

A few seconds of stubborn silence ensued as Ana merely lifted her eyebrows at him, sipping innocently at her wine. Gabriel couldn't keep eye contact with her; if he did, he might cave.

Of course, it didn't take long for him to cave anyway, giving in with a quiet sigh while opening his drink. "What's the favor?"

She perked right up in that way that one does when they're pretending that something wasn't their plan all along. "Now that you mention it, I suppose I could use your help with something..."

"Knew it."

"Well, next weekend is one of the ones I have Fareeha, but I was hoping to spend a couple of days with Reinhardt-- you know, that handsome German fellow?"

Gabriel squinted at her. "The big one with the bad eye?"

"He's a gentleman. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"Please tell me the guy who's blind in one eye isn't going to be your designated driver. I don't want to have to explain to Fareeha why her mom was in a car that got wrapped around a tree."

"Don't be silly, Gabriel." Ana picked up the bottle again to pour herself another glass. "I'm capable of being my own designated driver, you know."

Rrrright. He wasn't going to touch that one. "Can he fit in your car?"

"Last I checked, yes. In the back seat, at least." Her lips quirked in a smile. "There was even room for me to join him."

"Did not need to know that."

"He's a mage, you know," she continued as if she hadn't heard. "Culinary magic. Anything he makes tastes fantastic. The fact that he only knows how to cook two things is a bit of a drawback, but we can work on that."

"You just don't want to have to cook," Gabriel muttered around the rim of his coke.

That wasn't given a response either. "You're free next weekend, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "Free as I am any weekend." Probably doing a lot of staring at a blank canvas and wishing that his magic was the kind that could paint whatever was in his mind directly onto whatever surface he liked, because that would be more useful than being able to make a dust-shedding pastel bird fly around the room. Well, that or refreshing his social media accounts ad infinitum hoping he might find inspiration instead of increasingly depressing news reports.

"Good. Then it's settled." Ana polished off the last of her wine and set the glass down with a soft _clunk_. "You can come pick her up after work on Friday. Text me with whatever time would be good for you?"

"Will do." He waved as she headed for the door. "Oh, and remember to find her something to do this time, alright? Last time she got into my Copics and tried to color my apartment."

The only indication that Ana had heard him was a dismissive wave before she went out the door, leaving him to wonder how the hell he was going to kid-proof his place. He had a lot of art supplies he'd need to put away in the next week. Couldn't even default to just putting things in high places, because he knew from experience that Fareeha was a climber.

As for the tablet idea? He forgot about that entirely.

 


	2. favorite daughter/thread of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel decides to try something on a whim. It doesn't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to post another chapter here real quick so people know what's up. I figure I'll post more whenever I have the time. No real schedule, because schedules are for squares (not really I just tend to forget about them).
> 
> a wild Jack appears.

The next week was uneventful.

Gabriel went to work (a thankless retail job at an arts and crafts store that at least got him discounts on supplies), stocked shelves for a while, dealt with the occasional pleasant customer, dealt with less occasional unpleasant customers. Came home, tried not to pay attention to the news on his social media feeds, ended up paying attention to the news anyway and thoroughly killing his will to be productive. There was take-out, there was lazy cooking, there was having to remind himself to take his meds, and there was a lot of glaring at a blank canvas. Nothing unusual for him; the only thing of note was when he lingered after his shift was done on Thursday to buy a bunch of cheap, non-toxic, easily cleaned art supplies for Fareeha, because he knew that her mother would probably forget.

That and glancing at Netflix to see if it had anything appropriate for her to watch. Which turned out to be a mistake, of course; he woke up at some time around 6 AM faceplanted at his desk because he'd fallen asleep watching Sense8, and barely had time to shower before he had to head to work again. Friday was already off to a great start.

After a long day at work, he came home to a text from Ana asking where he was and when he'd be over, nagging him for not texting her with details of some sort. Taking just enough time to peel off his work clothes and slip into something that looked and smelled less like a bottle of glitter glue had puked on him (don't ask), he made his way down the stairs and headed to her place on the first floor, just below his.

He'd barely knocked on the door when it swung open, Ana's features crinkled into a frown. " _There_ you are," she said, exasperated. Today's hijab was a muted sandy color. "Come in, come in--"

" _Gabriel!_ " came a squeal from behind her.

Not two seconds later, Gabriel was nearly knocked off-balance by a five year old attatching herself to his leg; he chuckled and bent to scoop her up, smiling fondly at the resulting bubbly laugh that earned when she settled in to perch on his left arm. "Hey, kiddo."

"I saw a, a dead lizard today!" she told him excitedly. "There were ants all over it an' it was gross."

Ana tutted disapprovingly. "Really, Fareeha."

"Oh, oh. An' I saw, a. A really big bird!"

"How big?" Gabriel asked her, grinning.

Fareeha spread her arms out wide. "Reeeally big! Mum says it was a, a hawk. It was on the wire right--" she leaned precariously to point at the power lines that ran parallel to their street, "--there!" Then she returned to her previous position to tug on Gabriel's beanie with her stubby little hands. "Can you make a hawk, Gabriel? With your magic? Mum said they eat little birds, an' you can make little birds, so I wanna see."

He exchanged a look with Ana, who was frowning very sternly. "I don't think your mom would approve of that," he said.

The girl's response was to pout, shoving at his shoulders. "Gabrieeelll..." Meanwhile, Ana gave him a smile and a gentle pat on the arm.

"I'll go get her things," she said, before ducking back into the apartment and leaving the two alone. Both Gabriel and Fareeha waited until she was out of earshot, giving each other a conspiratory look that spoke of a long-standing tradition of scheming.

"Pizza and Avengers?" Gabriel asked.

Fareeha grinned. "Pizza an' Avengers."

They shook on it, and that was that.

\---

Ana gave him her old tablet anyway, of course.

It was a fancy thing if he'd ever seen one, a big-ass Intuos. Not the fanciest - it didn't have a screen built in - but its work surface was as big as his laptop and the box it came in fit awkwardly under his arm. When she handed it to him in the process of getting Fareeha's things in order, she wouldn't take no for an answer. For the sake of being certain that she hadn't just spent money on him, he asked to see her new one; she plucked it from her desk and showed him without argument. Sure enough, her new one was a Cintiq: the kind that had a screen.

He grudgingly took it on the grounds that he wasn't going to be in the market to replace his ancient, bricked Bamboo tablet anytime soon, because retail and commissions didn't pay like big jobs did, but he still scolded her for getting him anything at all (as one does). She just laughed and sent him on his way, back to his apartment to watch the munchkin and keep her out of his art supplies for a few days.

Many hours of pizza, Captain America, and making graphite birds and pastel butterflies flit around the room later, he'd finally managed to tire the kid out. For him, though, sleep wasn't so easy to find. Thus he found himself sitting in front of his laptop, tablet set out on the desk, frowning as he tapped the end of his pen on its sleek black surface with a blank digital "page" staring back at him.

What did people even do with digital art, anyway?

"This is pointless," he muttered aloud after several minutes, closing the program. Not a minute later he opened it again, irritated.

Digital. A too-clean, too-easy medium for people who didn't want to learn blending techniques or how to use a palette knife or ever wrestle with an accidental smudge. Perfectly clean-lined art was just a few Ctrl+Z do-overs away, and things like the fill tool and independent layers made flats a breeze.

Clean linework. Flats. Cel shading. Comics? Webcomics, maybe.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards in the beginnings of a smile. There. He had a starting point.

But what kind of comic, he wondered. No, that wasn't where he needed to start. Better question: what kinds of characters would do well in a comic? Cart shouldn't go before the horse; he needed a concept that would stick. A recognizable archetype, a series of shapes and colors to use as a visual shorthand for what a character was (or what the public consciousness was trained to recognize that character as).

Gabriel leaned back in his seat, folding his arms and tapping his pen against his chin as he gave his rickety office chair a lazy spin that made it creak subtly. His eyes wandered around his living room, coming to linger on the TV. Netflix was still open on the screen; he stared at it for several seconds, the cogs in his mind turning.

Yeah, that could work.

He spun his chair back around and set to work on the sketch.

Shapes came first. Zoomed out a ways, he started with a single line to figure out where he wanted the midpoint to be, then blocked out the basics of the form (including the triangular shoulder-to-waist ratio) to match. The general shapes behind the musculature came next, followed by a few quick penstrokes to imply military-bland clothing. A little more detail and he had seams, folds, a belt, laces on the boots, pockets. Arms got redrawn three times before he decided _fuck it_ and put the hands in said pockets, settling on adding tension to the arm muscles and shoulders to imply nervousness in the figure's body language.

When he got to the face and hair, he was at a zoom level of three hundred percent. The face didn't look like Captain America did in the movies; the jaw was a little more square, the lines under the eyes a little more sad, the brows drawn together. Gabriel didn't care that it had drifted like that. He'd gotten used to the inherent awkwardness of the tablet by that point, and the process of drawing had absorbed him.

Forty-five minutes of sketching later, he had a clear result. He rubbed at his eyes, realizing suddenly that they were watering; he hadn't closed them often enough, probably. Satisfied for the time being, he saved the project and closed it.

Then not even five minutes later he'd opened it again, because he had an idea.

See, the way his magic worked, whenever he animated a piece of art, it was kept "alive" by otherworldly things (like pixies or other bored lesser fae) that had been attracted to it by his connection to the ley lines. Those minor otherworldly creatures would then pull themselves from the canvas using whatever material he'd drawn them with as a "body", and explore the human realm for a bit until he cut the connection and whatever material they were made of lost its shape and ceased resembling anything but a mess on his floor. The most he'd ever managed to do - and it was a sheer accident - was the time he'd managed to snag a sylph in one of his more detailed oil paintings, and she'd sat around his kitchen and poked his fridge's ice maker for like an hour as a bewildered collection of brushstrokes.

But digital art didn't have any material behind it to animate. Gabriel wasn't sure it could even come out of the screen. It was contained as a series of ones and zeroes, bits and bytes and data. A part of him was curious as to whether or not it would even work at all, and if so, how it might manage to do so.

Not once in all this deliberation did he think of whether or not this was actually a _good_ idea. All he had gotten through his head was that it was an idea, and as an idea it needed to be tested. And testing it was exactly what he was going to do.

There were no incantations, no focusing crystals or prayers to deities or ritual offerings. Just closing his eyes, extending his will outward. All he had to do was concentrate on what he wanted. Not Captain America, but something a little more fully realized. Something that was just enough to give his art enough life and character to be a starting point for other things. A muse, in a sense.

He opened his eyes, and his drawing was staring back at him from the screen, blinking owlishly.

"Hi," he said.

"Uh..." the sketch replied, uncertain. Eyes darting around. "Hi?"

Gabriel smiled. Probably not a smart critter, if it was confused. Most fae knew why they were there when he pulled them in. Some even got annoyed if they'd been in the middle of something. This one, not so much. "Can you tell me what you're seeing?"

"Uh, okay..." The sketch turned its head, squinting at its surroundings. "I'm in a-- a white room. White floor, white ceiling, white walls. There's a screen on this wall and I can--whoa." The doodle stared at the hand it was using to point at Gabriel, brows furrowed. "I'm see-through."

That made Gabriel laugh. "I can fix that," he said. "Hold your arms out with your fingers spread to make it easier."

"Okay?" Confusion over the circumstances didn't deter the sketch from complying, and that made it a lot simpler to just use the magic wand selection tool to just select the background so he could then invert the selection to include only the drawing. After that it was just the fill tool on a lower layer, which Gabriel then pinned to the first layer; that seemed to anchor it to the animated layer effectively enough.

Then he deselected it and watched as the doodle stared at its newly not-transparent hands. "Better?" he asked.

"Much, thanks. I mean, it still looks really fucking weird but at least now there's something there." The doodle sighed; Gabriel noticed that it had a habit of wringing its hands and not quite making eye contact.

Wait, that was a good question: how could it even see him? "I'm gonna try something, okay?" he said, opening up a panel with a bunch of settings. The sketch's gaze visibly shifted to the panel's location on-screen, but otherwise it said nothing. "I need you to tell me what happens when I do--" he turned off the webcam, "--this."

The doodle seemed to jerk back and blink even more at him, though now it gave the impression of being unseeing. "Just a black screen now. And, well, this thing," it said as it gestured to the control panel window in front of it. "No idea what this is."

Gabriel dutifully turned the webcam back on, and his sketch seemed distinctly relieved to see him again. "Alright. What about--" more settings, more going through the control panel. The next thing he turned off was the laptop's onboard microphone. "--this?"

His sketch frowned. "If you're saying anything, I can't hear you."

"Good to know," Gabriel said, then turned the microphone back on. "Thanks."

"Ooookay." More fidgeting, then, "I'm Jack, by the way. Well, John. But people call me Jack."

A slight furrow came to Gabriel's brow. "Jack, huh?"

"Yeah. Jack Morrison." The sketch gave him a tentative smile. "I'd shake your hand but uh..."

"Mm." Gabriel wondered if this Jack character could see his mind going into overdrive. Fae didn't give names, and humans didn't give their names to fae in turn. A True Name gave too much power one way or the other to whoever had it. Maybe this was a cleverer thing than he'd thought; fae weren't above trickery to get what they wanted, and knowing how human names worked enough to imitate one would be one hell of a gambit, but it'd also be effective against humans that didn't know better.

"What's, uh. What's your name?" the thing that called itself Jack asked him.

"None of your business." Gabriel knew better.

The doodle wilted. "Oh. Right, sorry. You, uh. You never asked for mine either, did you? Sorry, it's just that I don't know what's going on and you're the only one here and, and. I'm babbling, aren't I."

"Little bit."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize." Sighing, Gabriel leaned back in his chair; he unplugged his tablet and replaced it with his mouse. Damn thing was making him feel bad now. Definitely way smarter than he'd given it credit for. "Few more things I need to mess with, then I'll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing."

"Okay?"

The first one didn't require any input on Jack's part. All Gabriel had to do was pull up a drop down menu and save the drawing as it was into a basic JPEG format, then open it up to see if it was still animated. None of the windows he used to do it were maximized, so he got to watch Jack's expressions out of the corner of his eye the entire time: confusion, fascination, more confusion. It didn't seem like Jack could necessarily see what he was doing, except for the windows Gabriel pulled up possibly obstructing his view.

"Just gonna leave me in the dark?" Jack asked after a while, just as Gabriel was pulling up a perfect snapshot of the moment he'd saved the JPEG file. Utterly lifeless. That meant copies didn't end up animated.

Good to know. "Ironing out the technical details. Nothing to worry about."

Jack's nose crinkled. "Technical details?"

"Well, I've gotta know whether or not saving this as an image file will make copies of you."

"Copies?" His doodle seemed alarmed by this. "The hell are you talking about? I'm me."

"Oh, cut the crap. I know you're just looking for an angle to be able to get out."

"Get out of _where_? You haven't even told me where I am! Or who you are." Jack caught sight of one of his own wildly gesticulating hands and stared at it for a second. "Or what I'm on. Did you drug me? Because this is really fucking weird."

This wasn't what Gabriel had been expecting; he sighed and rubbed at his temples, shaking his head. "Look, I've got one more thing I need to test out. Things might get a little--"

"Fucked up?" Jack supplied.

"Yeah." If he weren't really goddamn suspicious of this thing, Gabriel would almost feel bad for it. "If all else fails, it'll probably let you loose the moment I do this."

"That made zero amounts of sense."

"Sure it did," Gabriel mumbled. Then he saved the file as a PSD and closed it, taking a deep breath and counting out the seconds until he calmed down.

It was still okay; he could undo everything he'd animated up to this point, and he could undo this thing if he had to. Maybe this "Jack" was being honest, but that didn't make it benign, either. There were all kinds of spirits and monsters that didn't know what they were until they ate people or took over their souls or whatever.

But if it was something along those lines, that meant it wasn't a fae. That would make it human in origin, and things that had once been human simply weren't Gabriel's area of expertise. He wasn't a medium, never had been. This naturally led Gabriel to the conclusion that Ana's tablet was either haunted or cursed, and both of those possibilities meant that he was going to have to give her a nice long talk on actually dealing with cursed objects and _not_ giving them to your friends and hoping said friends dealt with them.

He let out a long, deep sigh; finally calm, he opened up the PSD file again.

It was impossible for him to hide his wince when he was greeted with Jack's startled squawk and the knowledge that this wasn't something that was going to go away just yet.

"The _fuck_." Jack was breathing hard, patting himself down. "I'm-- I'm here again? I-- Jesus _Christ_ what the fuck did you just do."

Gabriel felt a twinge of guilt again, and this time he was having a hard time stamping it out. "I was just trying something," he said. "What do you think happened?"

"Everything went dark for a second. No, that's not right. I-- it was like, I-I dunno. Like nothing, I guess. Just, nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah. There was this, I dunno, this vague impression of feeling and hearing, but it seemed really far away somehow. It was like it wasn't me doing it, y'know?" Once more, Jack commenced fidgeting. "Almost like I didn't exist or something."

That didn't make the guilt any better at all. "I'm sorry," Gabriel said. "I'll let you go now, alright?"

Jack nodded, even though he didn't seem sure. "I, yeah. Okay."

"Okay," Gabriel echoed, offering a smile. Jack smiled back; Gabriel had the fleeting thought that it was the sort of smile he'd very much like to paint at some point.

He closed his eyes, concentrated. Cutting the connection was easier than feeling around for one in the first place, usually. He knew the tether was there; at that point, his job was as simple as cutting a puppet's strings. Traditional art that he'd animated usually fell apart when he did that, but Jack wasn't made of anything. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be preserved in a way that most of Gabriel's art couldn't be. Maybe something of his spirit would be left behind in the after-image.

Well, even if none of that happened, Jack had certainly given him enough to think about--

"Uh," came Jack's voice, ringing out painfully loud in the quiet of Gabriel's apartment; when he opened his eyes, Jack was still there. Still moving. "So, how long does this usually take?"

Gabriel slumped heavily in his chair, popping his jaw as he stared hard at his laptop's screen. Several seconds passed like this, with him saying nothing because there was nothing to say.

Jack caught the hint with a visible cringe. "Didn't work, huh?"

"Nope," was the bland reply.

"Well, shit."

"Mmhm." Sitting up just long enough to reach for his phone, Gabriel flicked through his contacts to find Ana. He sent her two words: _CALL ME_.

She'd definitely given him a haunted tablet.

 


	3. unrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers are found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE WAS SOME INTEREST IN ME POSTING MORE SO I AM
> 
> HI

Ana had called him within two minutes of receiving his text, clearly trying not to panic as she scolded him and told him it had better be good. He didn't even have it in him to snicker or tease her about Reinhardt's sleepy mumbling in the background.

"You gave me a haunted tablet, didn't you?"

"What?" Ana was clearly perplexed. "I did no such thing."

"It's the only thing I've gotten that might've changed things in the past day. That or something in Fareeha's things."

"Gabriel, I know haunted objects when I see them."

"Do you?"

Ana sighed. "Think about where I come from and then ask me that again." Oh. Good point. But she was only quiet for a moment before she went on to nag. "Have you even slept at all?"

Gabriel mumbled something that didn't actually consist of real words.

"That's not an answer, young man."

He rolled his eyes even though he knew she couldn't see it. " _No_."

"Have you taken your medicine?"

"Ana, come on."

"Well?"

" _Yes_ , I did. I even ate actual food. I was about to go to bed but then _this,_ " he gestured vaguely at his computer, where Jack was still watching him, wide-eyed and attentive, "had to go and happen and now there's a thing in my computer."

"A thing."

"Yeah, a thing."

Another sigh on Ana's end; Gabriel could imagine her pinching the bridge of her long, pretty nose, eyes squeezed shut. He heard more low, rumbling words in the background, tinged with concern, followed by Ana's gentle response of _shh, it's nothing, everything's fine, go back to sleep._ It wasn't hard to put two and two together.

"Date went well?" he asked.

"Well enough," she replied. "I'll be there in a half hour. You'd better have coffee for me when I get there."

"Can do." He didn't even bother telling her she didn't have to, because once she decided she was going to do a thing, sometimes the best course of action was to just let her. "See you then."

Jack was still looking at him when he set the phone down. Gabriel had to wonder if all that expressiveness was inherent to Jack or just a consequence of being a drawing, because he was reading about eight different emotions all at once on that perfectly proportioned face.

"What?" he found himself asking.

Jack startled, jerking back as if burned. "I... You think I'm a ghost."

"Yep." No hesitation there.

"And you think I'm haunting your... Your computer, right?"

"Something like that," Gabriel said.

"I," Jack's voice cracked a little, "I don't think I'm dead? I don't feel dead."

"Denial's stage one."

Jack opened his mouth as if to say something, but shut it again just as quickly and proceeded to glare at Gabriel accusingly. Then he softened, averting his eyes and drawing inward; it was fascinating to watch him cycle through so many emotions so quickly. Reminded Gabriel of himself on a bad day, except less volatile and probably less likely to kick a hole in the wall of his dorm room.

Something about that tugged at Gabriel's heartstrings, making him want to break the silence just to get Jack out of his own head. But wanting to say something and finding the right words to fix things were two completely different things; when Gabriel did speak again, it felt like a fumble right out the gate. "What's on your mind?"

"This Ana person," Jack began, slow and thoughtful, "do you think she can help?"

"Dunno," Gabriel admitted. "Worth a shot."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"What's there to be sorry about? You wouldn't be in this situation if I hadn't dragged you into it with my clumsy-ass spellwork."

"But you wouldn't be in this situation either if I were what you thought I'd be," Jack said.

Gabriel winced. "Can't help what you are, Jack."

"Maybe, but it's still upsetting you."

Perceptive little shit, wasn't he? "Doesn't matter. If you're a spirit of some kind that has a human origin, no matter what that makes you, it means you're clinging to this plane for a reason. Knowing that, the best course of action will always be to help you find what that reason is, and fix it so that you can find closure and move on. That's how this shit works."

"Best for... For me? For you?"

"For everyone," Gabriel told him. "Otherwise, your soul decays without a living body to anchor itself to. It's possible that's already happened, but I couldn't tell you whether it has or not because that's just not my area. Point is, if that does happen? Some nasty shit's gonna go down, and anyone who gets near you is gonna get caught up in it."

"Including you," Jack murmured.

Gabriel leaned back in his chair to stretch, his joints popping. "Yep."

"You're scared of me."

"Little bit." Gabriel it would be stupid not to be. "Humans don't have rules, Jack. I'm used to working with fair folk, elementals, otherworldly things. There's practically a script for how to deal with those. You? No idea."

"Still talking to me, though," the doodle-turned-person noted, and Gabriel chuckled.

"That's because I'm an idiot." He stood up, stretching again, then unplugged his computer from all its various cords so he could take it with him into the kitchen. "Come on, let's go make Ana some coffee."

On screen, Jack smiled and shrugged, and Gabriel got the impression that he was trying very hard not to have a meltdown. "Not like I've got anywhere else to be," he said. Damn shame he was probably on a path to steal Gabriel's body and eat his soul, because if it weren't for that, Gabriel could see himself getting along pretty well with this guy, neuroses and all.

Well, at least the paranoia would keep him from getting bored.

\---

Ana was five minutes earlier than she said she'd be; she showed up at Gabriel's door in fluffy slippers and an absurdly oversized shirt, her hijab lopsided and hastily wrapped. She also had Reinhardt in tow, who was so tall that he had to duck to get through the front door; he was equally unkempt-looking, showing up in sweatpants, a shirt, and loafers.

"Where is it." Her tone was flat, and her eyes were narrowed. Reinhardt winced as the rickety doorknob squeaked in his grip, closing the door behind himself as gingerly as he could.

He cleared his throat. "We apologize for the intrusion, Gabriel--"

" _Where_."

Reinhardt shut right up at that, withering at the threat in her tone. Gabriel didn't wither, just returning her look with an equally bland one of his own. He gave his laptop a fleeting glance to double-check that it wasn't facing the general direction of the door. "Might wanna fix yourself in the bathroom before we get to that, you've got a..." He gestured to his own hairline and nodded in her direction.

She pursed her lips in annoyance, hands coming up to feel for the offending escaped strands. Once she'd confirmed they were there, she rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh and went about fixing herself without a care for where she was or who she was with that had Gabriel and Reinhardt both turning their heads away politely in unison.

They exchanged a look in the meantime. "I've got wine?" Gabriel suggested.

Reinhardt relaxed visibly and nodded. "It would be appreciated, thank you."

"His wine is terrible," Ana said as they set about getting the bottle and a couple of glasses. "He puts it in the refrigerator like a barbarian."

"I assure you, my dear, I've had worse," Reinhardt told her, pouring himself a glass; it looked comically tiny in his huge hands, moreso when he held out his pinky in the act of lifting it to his lips. He still cringed on the first sip, but not as much as Ana had.

Gabriel decided not to tell either of them that his mother had put wine in the fridge for years. "Didn't mean to ruin your night," he said instead. "Hope I didn't interrupt anything."

Reinhardt waved it off. "Only a good night's sleep, which would have been interrupted anyway."

Ana scoffed. "The man in the apartment above his loves to tinker his way through bouts of insomnia. You can look now, by the way."

"Still. Sorry to bother you guys." Gabriel shot another glance at his computer, turned away from the commotion. Jack had gone remarkably quiet, almost suspiciously so, but Gabriel couldn't exactly see him or ask if he was doing alright with people in the room. Not without alerting people to him still being there.

But Ana's clipped tone told him that she wasn't going to let him get away with hiding it, even as she went through the motions of small talk. "It's nothing," she said. "Is Fareeha still asleep?"

"Out like a light in the spare room," Gabriel replied. "She lied about her bedtime again. Eleven this time."

Ana huffed. "She never seems to realize that she can lie to make it a good deal later than she actually does. Eleven o'clock! That's almost sensible." She came over to the kitchen and went directly for the cabinet with the mugs, pouring herself some of the coffee Gabriel had made earlier and not even bothering with the sugar he'd set out on the counter.

They made eye contact across the tiny kitchen, and Gabriel got the distinct impression that one misstep could have her making his life absolutely miserable for daring to interrupt her weekend for the wrong reasons.

"So," she said. "About your ghost."

Gabriel sighed, taking his time walking over to where the computer sat on the countertop. Slowly, he turned it so that it faced him instead of the living room-- and by extension, the rest of the kitchen at large. Through the speakers, Jack could be heard sucking in a breath; on the screen, he was staring at everyone with big, expressive eyes that reminded Gabriel of a cornered rabbit.

"Uh." Jack gave the room a wave as Gabriel stepped aside so Ana and Reinhardt could see him in all his nervous, sketchy glory. "Hi?"

"This is Jack," Gabriel explained. "He's kind of a mess. Jack, these two are Ana and Reinhardt. Friends of mine."

Jack pouted. "Hey, I'm not a mess. This is just a lot to take in, okay?"

It took a while for Ana to say anything, as it seemed like all she could do was gawk at poor Jack; a ghost reduced to being an opinionated margin doodle. "He's so--" her brow furrowed as she hunted for a word, "--unfinished."

"That is remarkable," Reinhardt breathed. He turned to Gabriel, astounded. "This is your magic?"

"It's usually more impressive than this," Gabriel admitted.

"But if it really is a human soul..." Ana frowned deeply. "This is all highly unusual for you, Gabriel."

"You're telling me?"

"How did he get in there? Was there anything different about the spell? Did it take more or less effort than usual?"

"Not really. Just couldn't get rid of him." Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel could see Jack slumping under the weight of their scrutiny. Shit, the poor little guy.

Ana didn't seem to notice, striding across the kitchen to begin poking at the art program's UI. "Did you try erasing it?" she asked.

Gabriel felt the blood drain from his face. "No?"

"What about deleting the file?" She brought the cursor over to exit the program, a window popping up to ask if she wished to save her progress. Jack flinched away at the sight of it, terrified.

Just watching made Gabriel feel ill. "I think we should try to figure this out first," he said, reaching for her hand but stopping himself just short of actually taking it.

Ana looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Gabriel, this is dangerous. Human souls are unpredictable at the best times, and there's no way of knowing what his state of decay is."

"Look at him," Gabriel urged. "He's scared. I closed the program _once_ and he said it was like he'd stopped existing."

"That doesn't make anything better and you know it," she shot back; even so, she turned her head to look at the screen again, at the big sad eyes peering at her around the dialogue box asking her if she'd like to save her progress. She softened somewhat, hovering over the _no_ option without actually clicking it.

Jack averted his eyes when he realized she was looking, rubbing at his neck. "It's all the same to me," he said. As blatant a lie as Gabriel had ever heard, and he could see that Ana knew it too when he noticed her faint smirk. "I've already caused you all enough trouble as it is. Don't, don't worry about me."

"He's even more dangerous than I thought," Ana said quietly. "Such a sweet thing."

If Jack could've blushed, he probably would've; as it was, it was easy to imagine one on him from the way he ducked his head. "I'm really not, ma'am," he said. "Sweet, I mean. I'll trust your judgment on the dangerous part."

Ana hummed. "You remember your name," she mused, "but do you remember your life? What year do you remember it being? It's a good sign if it's recent."

"I, yeah, sure. Uh..." He fidgeted nervously. "2017? Is-- is that--"

She let out a breath and smiled at him. "It'll do. Where are you from, Jack?"

"Indiana," he said. "Bloomington. Not big, not small. Farmland all around. Watch the speed limit signs in town, though, they're not always easy to see and sometimes the local cops get bored."

The more Jack spoke, the more Ana relaxed. "What about your family? What was life like at home?"

"My family's..." Jack sucked in a breath through his teeth, his features crinkling in something like distaste. He didn't even seem to notice as Ana closed the window obscuring him, cancelling out of closing the program. "They're not... We don't get along."

Reinhardt huffed in the background; he'd taken to drinking the wine right from the bottle, dinky glass be damned. "A common occurrance here in America, I see," he noted.

"Yeah, it's a problem," Gabriel agreed. Not one he had, but one he saw plenty of examples of growing up. "In this case, though? Sounds a lot like unfinished business to me."

Ana shushed them both before turning back towards the computer. "How don't you get along?" she asked, her gone gentle. "We won't judge you."

"They--" Jack sighed, frowning to himself. "There's a lot of reasons, okay?"

"Sum it up?" Gabriel suggested.

Jack bit his lip. "Former military Fox News household," he said.

All three of them went very still and very quiet for several seconds. "I see," Gabriel said after a while, keeping his tone measured and even. "And I take it you don't agree with that?"

"Gay, mentally ill boot camp washout," Jack responded glumly. "So no. I don't."

As much as that seemed to help with the tension in the room, Ana was still quick to change the subject, her voice having sharpened somewhat. Gabriel couldn't blame her in the slightest. "Do you remember your death at all?" she prodded. "Anything that might have led up to it?"

"I--" Jack squeezed his eyes shut, thinking hard. "The last thing I remember-- I couldn't sleep. And I was annoyed. Same old shit on the internet, same old shit at home. So I went for a walk."

"At night?" Ana asked, incredulous.

"Small town, remember? 'Sides, look at me, who's gonna-- oh, right. Drawing. Can't see me." Jack laughed nervously. "Six foot one, never shook the military haircut."

She turned to give Gabriel a look, and Gabriel pointedly refused to look her in the eye; that was basically how Jack was drawn. "I see," she said.

"I don't... Uh, I don't remember getting home," Jack told her. "Gets fuzzy after I leave the house. Then I was just... Here." He gestured at them through the screen. "Aside from that time that, uh--" A pause as he peered at Gabriel. "She said your name's Gabriel, right?"

Ana's disapproving look, likely over the fact that Gabriel had failed to introduce himself, was palpable. "That she did," Gabriel said, ignoring her.

"Yeah, aside from the time Gabriel shut off the program for a while."

"And what was that like?" Ana asked.

"Like he said, pretty much. S'like I didn't exist. Not like floating in nothing, because there wasn't even the feeling that I was floating." Jack's expression turned sheepish. "I, uh. Do you guys know what dissociation is? 'Cause it's a lot like that, but I didn't even know what that word was until my therapist used it, and my dad still thinks it's made up--"

"I know what it is," Gabriel assured. "Bipolar. I know things. Keep going."

He didn't think he'd ever seen Jack so relieved. "Really? I-I mean, that's not good, but uh. Wow. I had no idea. But I guess bipolar's nothing like borderline when you get down to it, is it? And you're so in control, I couldn't even tell you had _anything_ going on--"

"You're babbling, Jack." Even so, Gabriel was smiling.

"Oh. I guess I am, huh? Sorry, I just..." A laugh bubbled out of the poor displaced soul. "Nevermind. Just, yeah. It's was kind of like that. I felt like I was dissociating really badly. And I got this, I dunno, this really distant impression that there was something going on around me? But it felt like it wasn't me that it was happening to, at the same time."

Ana leaned forward, elbow on counter and chin in hand. Frowning. "That sounds like an out of body experience," she mumbled.

"No. I mean, yes. Maybe?" Jack blinked at her. "I've had those."

She perked up. "You have?"

"Yeah. All the time. Therapist calls it lucid dreaming." Jack's head tilted. "Why, is that important?"

Reinhardt was the one to answer. "Lucid dreaming is a form of magic," he rumbled. "A very old, sometimes very powerful one."

Again, not Gabriel's area. But it was common enough, even among people who didn't know magic existed or pragmatists who disbelieved in it entirely, that he still recognized it when he heard it. "That's one of those that has a really strong connection to other planes and ley lines, right?" he said slowly, looking to Ana for confirmation. She hummed in agreement, not looking at him; her attention was on Jack.

"What do you think might have been going on around you?" she asked him, drawing him out of his bewilderment and dragging him back to the conversation at hand. Forcing him to think, to remember.

"I... I dunno." Jack closed his eyes again. "Voices? Couldn't tell you what they were saying. Uh, scratchy fabric, maybe. Cold, like AC turned up way too high. Oh, a faint beeping, I guess. And like, a rhythmic kind of... I dunno, something wooshy. A really subtle sound, but with nothing else to latch onto it kinda stands out."

Gabriel stiffened. "Like a hospital?"

"Yeah, maybe." Jack laughed, nervous again. "Or maybe one of those hospital shows on TV. Who knows, right?"

"Oh, Gabriel..." Ana whispered, full of sympathy. All Gabriel could do was stare at the screen, at the sad, sweet soul living in his computer. He couldn't do anything to help Jack find closure after all.

Because Jack wasn't dead. He was _dreaming_.

 


	4. harmony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys hit a snag or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, NGL, a lot of the next couple chapters is just detailing all the logistics of this? It's fluff and humor for a while. Adorable things will ensue.

The night dragged on. Gabriel became less and less a part of the conversation the more tired he got; he still registered bits of it (like when Jack asked what sort of magic Ana and Reinhardt had, and Ana demonstrated by taking a piece of printer paper, hastily drawing a dick on it, and magically tattooing it on Reinhardt's arm, before magically removing it just as quickly) but it was more and more of a blur as time went on. His brain could only concentrate on so many things at a time when he was exhausted, and he'd had enough shit go on for one evening that his thoughts were swirling far too much for him to pay attention.

It was getting near 4 in the morning when all the commotion finally woke up Fareeha, who came out clutching her stuffed zergling - an old gift from Reinhardt, who was a nerd - and asked why mum was home so early. This sent Ana immediately into mothering mode, whereupon she promptly decided that Gabriel had way too much to deal with to take care of her offspring properly for the weekend, enlisting Reinhardt in helping to gather up her daughter's things and get her home. Gabriel didn't have the brainpower right then to question the logistics of getting Reinhardt home eventually as well, so he didn't.

No, he just... Let her go. Not really paying attention, not really listening. Dead on his feet to the point that even Fareeha's farewell only got a distracted wave and a faint "mmhm" in reply as the pair left with her shuffling sleepily behind, rubbing her eyes with her zergling dragging on the floor.

Jack noticed. Of course he did. He was damn perceptive for a guy that looked like a margin doodle. And after the group had left, as Gabriel picked up his laptop to carry it back to its spot at his desk where he could plug it in, Jack had nothing to look at but the one that had drawn him.

"Gabriel?" His voice was tentative, cautious. Like he didn't know where they stood.

Well, that made two of them. Gabriel wasn't sure where they stood either. "Yeah?" he responded, setting the laptop down and plugging all the various cords back in with fumbling hands.

"It's okay if you wanna sleep." Jack offered a small smile. "I'll be fine on my own."

"Gotta set it up so my computer doesn't go into hibernation first," Gabriel mumbled, easing himself into his chair with a heavy sigh. He took a moment to rub at his face, and stretch, and yawn. "Don't want you freaking out again."

"You don't have to do this for me."

Gabriel gave him a weird look. "Yeah I do," came the grumpy, tired reply. "Who else is gonna? Besides, if you're comatose, this might be the only thing keeping your soul from drifting off entirely."

Jack drew his teeth over his lower lip as he fidgeted. Seemingly at a loss for things to say, he changed the subject instead. "Y'know, up until now I didn't think I was anything special. I didn't even think magic was a thing."

"That's on purpose," Gabriel told him. "We hide behind hippie suggestion blogs and cutesy new-age reagent shops. Things like that give the public a nice set of blinders to what witches can actually do. We aren't taken seriously, so we can exist mostly without fear."

"So, like Snuggies," Jack said.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I-it's a thing I read," he continued, nervous. "Snuggies were for disabled people who couldn't move much, but you can't market that to the public or non-disabled people will get shitty about it. So it got marketed to lazy people instead and... now... uh." Jack trailed off, wilting. "Sorry, it probably only makes sense in my head."

"No, you're not too far off, actually." Gabriel couldn't help being impressed; the mental comparison was a little weird, but the concept of tricking the masses into thinking something that was legit for some people could be a cute fad for the rest was spot-on. "Where'd you read that anyway?"

"Tumblr? Well, a Cracked article I got to through Tumblr."

That got Gabriel to smile. "Should give me your info sometime. Love to see your blog."

Jack seemed to shrink into himself, eyes going wide. "W-why would you-- i-it's, it's nothing special, I swear. I-I just, I reblog stuff and make posts occasionally."

"Porn?" Gabriel deadpanned.

" _No!_ No, I-I don't--"

"Pony porn?"

" _Fuck_ no!" Jack was horrified; Gabriel couldn't help grinning. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Hey man, if you'd just tell me..."

"It's an aesthetic blog, okay?"

Gabriel went quiet, blinking as Jack pouted and folded his arms with a huff. "Really."

Jack refused to look at him, glaring off to the side instead. "Yes, really."

"What kind of aesthetic?"

"Any kind. People send requests and I make photosets and moodboards for characters, pairings, fandoms." Jack began to wilt, his enunciation faltering as his words turned to a low mumble. "I just, I see pictures that look nice and I save 'em. Sometimes I'll link music with it if I can find some that fits the mood I'm going for. It's stupid, okay? Anybody can do it."

That was... Really, really adorable, actually. "Can I see it?" Gabriel asked.

Jack finally looked up to peer at him closely. "You really want to?"

"Yeah." Damn, with a reaction like that, Gabriel wasn't sure he'd be able to even offer concrit without feeling like an asshole. "What's the URL?"

After considering for a minute, Jack told him. Reluctantly, like he was afraid of what Gabriel might think-- of what any real person might think. In no time at all, Gabriel was pulling up a browser window to look, tiredness overwritten by curiosity. He wasn't sure why he wanted to know, just that he did.

What he saw was downright fascinating.

[jack // 26 // he/him // pan], the intro header under his profile picture said. The profile picture itself was a top-down bathroom selfie, with big blue eyes, a bright smile, soft blond hair, and a dusting of freckles over a straight, unbroken nose. [sfw // ask if you need anything tagged] it continued, with a final note of [stop asking if i have sex with pans]. The text was surprisingly readable, in a serif font that clearly differentiated certain letters from others while being high-contrast and reasonably sized to boot. The background was simple and uncluttered, the posts and tags and navigation links were all well-differentiated-- overall, a solidly formatted blog.

"You said you were gay earlier," Gabriel noted as he browsed. A post encouraging self-care in the form of punching nazis, BPD positivity posts, validation posts for various orientations... Standard fare, but it made him smile nonetheless.

He couldn't see Jack wince, but it was audible when he spoke. "Yeah, well. Easier to explain, less hostility, less people saying it's made up or generally making fun of it... Y'know. It's a precaution."

"Guess I can see that." Coming to linger on one of Jack's original posts, Gabriel took a good long look at the content of it. "You've got a good eye, Jack," he said after a while. "I like the contrast."

"Which post is that? I-I can't see what you're looking at." A pause. "Or you, for that matter."

"This one with the swords on the anvil and the blood on the rose petals along with the hi-res piece of bismuth." Gabriel smirked. "Monochrome except for a single color in each picture. No idea what the fuck's going on, but it definitely paints a picture."

"Oh." He could practically hear Jack's fidgeting. "So, you don't think it's too over-the-top? I don't usually go that dark."

"No, I like it. Definitely not what I was expecting. Hell, when you said 'aesthetic blog' I thought it'd be an unreadable tiny-font nightmare in Pepto Bismol pink." Leaning back in his chair, Gabriel stifled a yawn. " 'sides," he said as he lazily reached out to bring it back to the window Jack was in, "I like dark."

Jack startled, but quickly transitioned to looking concerned. "Shit, what time is it? You look exhausted."

"Uhh... Good question." Gabriel sat up enough to squint at the taskbar's clock. "Four in the morning."

"Four in the-- Jesus, dude, get some sleep."

"Do I have to?"

" _Yes_." Jack made a shooing motion. "Go. I'll be fine."

Gabriel didn't have the willpower to argue. He also didn't have the brainpower to remember to set the computer to not go into sleep mode. His head hit the pillow, and not a few minutes later he drifted off wondering what colors he'd have to mix to get the right shade of blue for Jack's eyes.

He'd found his new muse.

\---

Waking up at noon was definitely going to bite him in the ass come Monday, but for the time being it was refreshing. He lay in bed for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling as rain on the window gave an uneven staccato counterpoint to his thoughts; the night before had actually happened. He had a blond twink straight out of a bad Avengers porn parody living as a relatively half-assed doodle on his computer.

He thought back to his original idea for storyboarding a comic and had to chuckle at how unremarkable that seemed in hindsight. To hell with a comic, Jack could act out whole animated scenes so long as Gabriel kept everything pinned to the right layers. He could increase the size of the canvas ad infinitum, keep the scene going for as long as he wanted. All he needed was a little recording and editing software, along with Jack's cooperation.

Then again, was it even right to ask for it? Jack was more in the position of an unwilling roommate with nowhere else to go than a partner. Hell, Gabriel could ruin his entire life with a few keypresses, make him miserable with a couple strokes of a tablet pen. That was a lot of power to have over someone.

Right. He had to be responsible about this.

With a sigh, Gabriel peeled himself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom to go through the start of his usual morning routine. Shower first, food second, _then_ he'd think about doing art-related shit (and if he spent a little more time than he usually would on a Saturday just shaving, well, he'd chalk it up to having company to look decent for).

Almost an hour later, Gabriel was clean, showered, and mostly awake when he finally poked his head out into his living room. The computer on his desk was still on, and he gave it a wave as he passed it on the way to the kitchen.

"Finally," he heard Jack say, exasperated. "You take forever to shower, y'know that?"

"It's a day off," Gabriel replied, "I can afford to."

"Hate to see your water bill."

"Actually, it's pretty low right now. Been a lot of rain lately."

"This time of year? Really?" Jack was incredulous as Gabriel rummaged through his fridge; there was leftover pizza from the night before, and it was going to be his. "Where do you even live?"

"LA," Gabriel said with a shrug. After retrieving the pizza box from the fridge, he closed the door with his foot and went for a plate from one of the cabinets. He wasn't a total savage. "There's so much water in the reservoirs that we're not even rationing."

"Jesus. Must be expensive to live there."

"Little bit." There was a fine art to putting five pieces of pizza on a plate at the same time without any of them sticking together or falling off, and Gabriel had long since mastered it. The plate then went in the microwave, and a drink was retrieved as it warmed up. "On the plus side? Less Republicans."

"Well, can't argue with that." A few seconds passed, Gabriel zoning out as he waited for the microwave to beep and Jack probably fidgeting. "I should probably erase this."

"Hm?" Gabriel turned his head to look. "Erase what?"

On-screen, Jack's formerly pristine white canvas had been covered in childish, no-pen-sensitivity doodles, done in plain black and looking for all the world like finger paintings. Jack himself was sitting cross-legged near the bottom of the canvas (on his "floor", probably), untouched by the sooty, smeared scribbles. "I, uh. It kept trying to go into sleep mode so I just started... Uh."

The microwave beeped as Gabriel stared. "You can control the cursor?" he asked, opening it up and reaching for his plate; he jerked his hand back with a hiss when the hot ceramic was too much even for his art-calloused fingers.

"Yeah. Think so. Can't make anything I can actually use though. I tried drawing a gameboy but it was just kind of a flat drawing on the wall." Jack held up his hands. "I can use my palms to erase, too."

"Shit, Jackie. That's amazing."

Jack perked up. "Yeah?"

"Definitely." Pulling his hoodie's sleeve over his hand, Gabriel carefully lifted the plate and brought it over to where his computer was, a cold can of bargain-brand Totally Not Coke You Guys soda in the other hand. He settled down at his desk with the drink placed a good deal farther away from the keyboard than the pizza was. "Never had a piece of art that could do anything like that. Damn shame you're not an artist yourself, or you'd actually be able to do something with it. Make your own murals or some shit."

"Ahaha, no. No, my art's... Really basic. Give me a decent camera and a copy of Photoshop? Sure, I'll do something with it. Hand me a pen and paper? It's like Hyperbole and a Half levels of bad. Or the original One Punch Man."

Gabriel pointed a piece of pizza at Jack and gave him an admonishing look. "Don't diss those, they're classics."

"I'm not! Just saying, when I do art? It's like the visual equivalent of shitposting." Jack just sat for a minute as Gabriel ate, tapping his fingers together with his hands in his lap. "Is it weird that I'm not hungry?"

"Hm?" Gabriel took a moment to finish his mouthful. "Don't think so."

"Okay. 'Cause I'm not. I don't really feel much of anything, actually." Another quiet period as Jack seemed to fall into his own headspace, zoning out. Gabriel watched as he made his way through his plate of reheated pizza, imagining how Jack would look in full color in his mind's eye. Picturing Jack in various scenes, the way different sorts of lighting would accentuate his features. The vibrant hues of a sunny day in an open field, the dramatic contrasts of a dark alley lit by streetlamps that shone off of puddles on the ground.

Gabriel could paint someone like Jack into so many things. A hero, a villain, anything in between. Even if he didn't have any say or control in what or how Jack thought, he recognized that someone like Jack was malleable, easily led. Easily changed. Gabriel could guide him onto a thousand different paths, and he'd take them-- embrace what he was told he could be, just for the sake of praise and being told he'd amounted to something.

It had Gabriel wondering if Jack had ever chosen a path on his own.

"Hey," Gabriel said when he was about three-quarters of the way through his, uh, lunch. "When I'm done with this, I'm gonna try somethin'. Okay?"

Jack blinked. "Okay...?"

"Not gonna close you up or erase you, don't worry." Those things weren't even remotely close to being on the table anymore. "Just gonna see if I can give you something to do. Maybe make you more comfortable."

"Oh, you don't have to--"

"Yes I do." Someone had to. "I don't want you to have to resort to scribbling on the walls when I'm not here. Only Fareeha gets away with that."

Jack bubbled up with a laugh that was music to Gabriel's ears.

 


	5. reminiscence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settling into a routine of domesticity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised more worldbuilding and here it is. 8D

The first thing Gabriel drew for Jack was a fidget cube.

He had to look up what it looked like on his phone to be able to draw it, of course. He'd noticed over the years that one of the constants in his ability to animate shit was that if he knew what an object looked like in its entirety and what it _should_ look like when three-dimensional, then it would become three-dimensional when animated. He'd had a lot of disgruntled piles of floppy lineart before he realized that little tidbit, but recently all he'd needed was a reference and a detailed rendering of the part of the thing that was visible.

After finishing it off by putting down a fill layer so it wouldn't be transparent, just like he had for Jack himself, he pinned the two layers together and selected the whole thing to be able to drag it places. "Hold out your hand," he instructed.

Jack did so. Zoomed in like he was, Gabriel could see the creases of Jack's palm. "What's this?" Gabriel found it worth noting that the moment he pinned the fidget cube layers to Jack's layers, Jack began playing with the thing.

"A thing," Gabriel said. "One of those fidget cubes, y'know? I don't know if you can hurt yourself, but with the way you poke at your cuticles..."

"Huh." Press, click, roll. Jack's fingers were quick to figure out the motions for all six sides of the thing as he stared at it in fascination. "This would've been nice in high school."

"Did your teachers confiscate clicky pens too?"

"And phones, and crackly water bottles, and iPods. The list goes on." Jack sat down on the "floor" of his space as Gabriel zoomed out, continuing to play with the little toy. "What's next?"

"Uh. Dunno." Gabriel started thumbing through stock photos on his phone, looking at various picturesque bedrooms. "Probably something to sit on."

"Cool."

"Unless you've got any, uh, base needs that have to be taken care of."

Jack blinked at him. The fidgeting continued even when he wasn't staring at the cube directly. "Don't... Think so?" A pause. "Is that weird?"

"No idea," Gabriel said. "Though now I'm curious as to whether or not you can even get it up like that."

That got Jack to squint at him suspiciously. "Are you always this interested in the masturbation habits of your artwork? That's definitely some kinda kink."

"Hey. I just don't wanna leave you deprived, that's all."

"Tell you what, if I ever do feel deprived, you'll be the first to know." Jack's attention returned to the cube. "Not like I have anyone else I can tell."

Gabriel hummed. "Actually, I had an idea about that."

"What? You gonna draw me a," Jack waggled his eyebrows, " _friend_?"

"There are so many reasons why I'd never draw you a hot date. First of all, I've tried that, and fae in drawings have no idea how human socialization works so it's one awkward moment after another. Second, you don't know their rules either, so you'd probably end up accidentally enabling a changeling to inhabit your body or something."

All Jack could do for several seconds was blink owlishly. Then he got a stupid grin on his face that did nothing for Gabriel's mood. "So you did try to bang a drawing."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes and pointed at Jack in warning. "Keep that up and I'm taking away your fidget cube."

Jack mock-gasped. "No! Not the fidget cube! Anything but that..." His act wore off about halfway through as he seemed to get bored with it and return to the doodad instead. "Honestly though, I love this thing."

"Good for you." Meanwhile, Gabriel had already begun extending the canvas to have enough room to draw a bed. Once again, he started it on another layer long before syncing it to Jack's layers; first the straight line tool, then freehand sketching for the overall shapes. "Do you like lots of pillows or absolute bare minimum of pillows."

"All of the pillows," Jack answered automatically. Gabriel couldn't see him directly anymore, having moved the canvas to draw without disturbing him. All he got was a brief peek at that shock of unruly short-cropped hair off to the side as Jack apparently craned his neck to look at Gabriel in turn. "Hey, you're over there now."

"Yeah. Moved the canvas. You can come over when I'm done." Gabriel proceeded to sketch out at least four too many pillows, along with another on the floor leaned against the bed for good measure. Underneath the bed he added three storage drawers instead of just empty space, and then he drew the oversized, overly fluffy comforter a bit lopsided so that the corner of it partially obscured two of the drawer fronts. The artist in him felt a need to make it look lived-in and comfortable, and that's what he was doing.

Even if he couldn't see Jack, his ability to listen was unhindered. "Now that's a bed," the blond remarked. "All it's missing is my plush creeper."

Sounded like approval to Gabriel, so he kept going. "You have plushes?"

"Look, I was at the bookstore looking for a copy of some mystery novel or other from a series my mom likes, and it was _right there_ , and I told the cashier it was for my little sister but I don't actually have any siblings so _you_ _shut up_."

"Shit, man. I wasn't gonna say anything. I was just gonna look up references so I could draw 'em." Gabriel held up his phone to indicate the stock photos on the screen, though he wasn't sure if Jack could see it. "I need to know what something looks like in my head before you can interact with it."

Things went quiet for a moment. "Oh." Gabriel felt a smile tugging at his lips; he could practically hear Jack thinking. "I, uh... Is it okay if I mention ones that I don't have, too? I-I kind of, uh--"

Gabriel chuckled. "It's okay, Jack."

"Okay." He heard Jack let out a slow, steadying breath. "Okay, yeah. Then let's do that."

By the time Gabriel had to give his wrist a break, Jack had managed to collect a fat chocobo, a creeper, several pokemon, a nug, a mabari, and a deathclaw. All in plush form, all having been incorperated into his nest of pillows and softness on his new bed as he lounged with his cuddly things and his fidget cube seemingly without a care in the world. Gabriel watched out of the corner of his eye as he went through his usual series of wrist exercises, and he couldn't help but think of how the scene would look in full color.

This was how he would paint Jack, Gabriel decided then: happy and as he was, no other role to play than that of himself. Because it was then that Gabriel knew Jack's true self was a thing worth painting.

\---

All through the day and into the evening, they chatted. Gabriel had nothing better to do while giving his wrist a break, and Jack wasn't about to go anywhere either. They talked about miserable retail jobs and shitty customers, about treading financial water while trying not to drown in debt, about their respective medications' side effects. They talked about cars, and aesthetics, and dogs. Jack talked about how he was trying to catch up on all the media he'd missed growing up because his parents hadn't approved; Gabriel talked about how he hadn't had the energy or time to binge watch a decent show or go to a movie in ages, and how his rec list was getting ridiculously long.

(Jack had even more recs to add to the list.)

Gabriel brought his laptop into the kitchen to continue the conversation as he made dinner for himself, defrosting and preparing some frozen tilapia he'd been saving for whenever he felt ambitious enough to cook it, along with a trio of different mushroom varieties drenched in butter in a saucepan as a side dish. The topic had drifted again, as it so often did with them; Gabriel couldn't help marvelling at the easy rhythm of their conversation.

"So, how'd you meet Ana?" Jack asked, absently watching Gabriel put the fish on the countertop grill. Even though Jack said he wasn't much of a cook, it wouldn't surprise Gabriel if he managed to commit a good chunk of the method to memory. The guy was like a sponge. "Were you two ever-- you're laughing."

Not laughing so much as smiling and getting a faint chuckle out of it. "No, we weren't a thing." A spatula was pulled out of a drawer and set down on a saucer, and various seasonings were plucked from a cupboard over the top of the range hood. "She's a beautiful woman, but she's not really my type."

"Knew it." All it took was a raised eyebrow in his direction for Jack to start backpedaling. "I-I mean. I had a feeling. You were really chill about the whole gay thing when I mentioned it, and you're an artist, and your pants are a little, uh, snug." Another pause. "Seriously, they're like. Painted on."

"You staring at my ass, Jack?"

"No," he said immediately. Then, "--maybe." And a few seconds after that? "Come on, it's right there when you stand up."

"Well, at least you're being honest." Mostly, anyway. Gabriel closed the lid on his countertop grill once the seasoning was all finished, taking a moment to stir the mushrooms. "Ana and I met in college. I helped a friend of hers deal with a frat boy problem."

"How?"

Gabriel paused in his stirring. "Ever seen The Ring?"

Jack seemed to think on that. "I... Kinda know the basic plot? Never seen it myself. Not really a horror person. It's either boring or awful or just plain paranoia-inducing for me."

"Alright, well." Stirring was resumed. "Cross that with a little of the FEAR games and a bunch of art student witches out for blood."

"Uh..." Jack frowned as he thought about it. "You lost me."

"We set up a trap for the frat boys," Gabriel explained. "Some catfishing using a fake dating app account, agreed to a meeting with a bunch of 'em after hours in an empty part of the campus. When they get there though, all that's there to greet them is a painting under a sheet by yours truly."

"A scary painting, I'm guessing?"

"You could say that. It was a life-sized impressionist fanart of the character Alma done in oils - kind of reminiscent of Van Gogh, I was going all-out on the surrealism - and it was on this huge canvas. I had to bring it in the room sideways just to get it through the door."

Jack whistled. "Alright. So then what?"

"Excellent question." Gabriel returned to the grill, flipping and turning the tilapia so it'd have crisscrossing grill lines. The first bite was with the eye, after all. "The painting was just step one, see. That's just the visual part of the scare. Audio matters too. So Ana put together a pre-recorded message, put it on a laptop. Then the laptop was hooked up to some wireless speakers, which we put in empty cleaning buckets in obscure corners of the room for acoustics' sake."

"Budget surround sound," Jack remarked.

"Yep. And we were in the next room over with the laptop, waiting with the message. So when the frat boys came, I brought the painting to life, Ana fired up the speakers, and--"

"Terrified frat boys never bother your friend again?"

"Exactly." Gabriel smiled to himself. "Proudest moment as an artist, right there. Best part is knowing that the thing animating the painting was just a confused dryad who'd been pulled out of her tree for a bit."

"Can I see it sometime? The painting, I mean."

Gabriel stopped in his tracks, his smile fading for a moment before he forced it back into place again. "Not an option, sorry."

"Oh." The disappointment was clear in Jack's tone. "Did you leave it on campus, or... Do you just not wanna show it to anyone. 'Cause I mean, it's okay either way. I don't mind. Just curious."

"I can't," Gabriel told him. "Physically can't. Whenever I animate something, it's gone. Once it's undone, it just falls apart. A smear of paint or pastels or charcoal or graphite on the floor."

"That's awful. Why would you animate anything at all if it just--" Jack searched for a word, gesturing with the hand holding his fidget cube, "-- _dies_."

"Same reason you take the risk of fucking something up when you start painting or inking over a fantastic sketch." A shrug, as Gabriel gave the mushrooms another stir and unplugged his countertop grill to let it cool down and allow the fish to cook the rest of the way it needed to on residual heat. "You wanna see it reach its logical conclusion, and hope it'll reach its best potential outcome when it does. If it doesn't, you've still learned something."

For a time, Jack went quiet. When he spoke again, his voice was small. "Did you draw me thinking I'd fall apart like that, too?"

Gabriel sighed. He set the spoon back down on the saucer with a _clink_ that echoed through his kitchen. "No," he said. "Honestly, I was kinda hoping you'd be an exception."

"Really?" Jack hastened to temper his relief with something more sober. "I-I mean, how so?"

"I wanted something I could show to people. Something that wasn't a commission, or a concept art project for some company, or even a portfolio piece showing what I could do when working with deadlines or some shit. Just, something that's mine." As it was, Gabriel winced at the idea as he turned off the stove. "I thought, even if I let the magic go, some of it would still be there in the way you were posed, in how you held yourself. That gesture, that presence. Never been good at capturing that by myself."

"But instead, you got me." Deflating visibly, Jack settled back into his plush pile with a heavy sigh. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Gabriel got out a plate, fork, knife. Another glance at the tilapia told him it was edible, and it went on the plate along with a heaping serving of mushrooms. "You're different, not worse. I think at this point I'd rather have you around."

He carved up what might need to be carved while at the counter - to turn eating into a one-handed affair with just the fork - then used the laptop as an impromptu platter to carry his plate back to his desk, never missing a beat. Jack watched as this all went on, fascinated by such a weird, smooth routine. "God," he mumbled, "how is someone like you still single?"

Gabriel snorted as he sat down, putting the plate aside and hooking the laptop back up to all its various cords. "You'd be surprised," he replied, and that was all he had to say on that before he picked up his tablet pen and twirled it between his fingers. "So."

Jack eyed the pen, shifting in his spot on the bed. "So...?"

"I had an idea," Gabriel said. "Not sure it'll work."

"Yeah?" Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up so he was looking at Gabriel directly, tossing his fidget cube from hand to hand. "What's the idea?"

"Well, you said you can move the cursor, and I wanna see just how far this goes, so..." Gabriel started drawing on a new layer, just past Jack's bed-- a door. It was 90% straight line and circle tools, but a little freehand sketching for good measure meant shading, wear, wood grain. "Let's see how this turns out."

"That..." Watching the door take shape, Jack was transfixed. Almost starry-eyed. "What will a door even do though?"

"Dunno," Gabriel admitted easily. "Wanna find out?" He emphasized his statement with a bite of mushroom, smirking around it.

Jack abandoned his plushies and set his cube down to get up from the bed. "Yeah, actually."

"Mmhm. Alright then." A few final touches, a fill layer, and then it was pinned to Jack's layers like everything else-- except it was also merged with the background layer, below everything. He gave Jack a nod, satisfied with it, and the blond made a beeline for the door.

It opened, and Gabriel found himself beaming when he saw his internet browser open in another tab behind the door, glimpsed just beyond Jack's silhouette. "Whoa," Jack breathed, awed; a small laugh bubbled out of him, and he stepped through.

When Gabriel minimized the art program, Jack was still there on his screen. Feet planted on the taskbar at the bottom, posture alert, his back to the screen; Gabriel wished he could see Jack's expression, imagined it could probably light up a room.

"That's my blog," Jack said, pointing to the browser window. He reached out to touch it with his right hand. "That's my-- oh, hey! Look at that."

"Right hand, right click?" Gabriel suggested.

"I guess." Jack reached up with his left hand to maximize the window, then moved to touch the address bar. Since the tablet was still plugged in, a box popped up at the bottom for writing down the URL instead of typing it, with an option presented for a touch-operated keyboard also. "Ooh, that's neat."

"Comes with the tablet drivers, I think."

Jack plopped down in front of this new box to start writing in his search parameters with his index finger, ignoring the touch-keyboard option completely. However, he paused halfway through, twisting to look at Gabriel sheepishly. "This is okay, right?"

"Just don't give my computer any weird viruses and we're good," Gabriel assured. Gave him time to sit back and eat his dinner anyway.

"Okay." Jack went back to writing, standing up to tap the address bar again to get his search going. "This is cool. I like this."

"Yeah?"

"Hell yeah." Jack turned again, just long enough to give Gabriel a smile. "Thanks, y'know? For this. Well, for everything, actually."

"Not a problem," Gabriel assured. He meant it, too.

This was how the two of them ended up on Cracked.com past midnight.

 


	6. warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is this? Fondness? No, don't be silly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff. It doesn't take long for these two, I've found. 
> 
> If you notice changes in the tags, don't worry. They probably aren't for the newest chapter posted, just a warning for upcoming ones. If there needs to be a tag for any chapter in particular I'm gonna put it at the start of the chapter in great big bold Andy Knows HTML letters. And if anyone sees a tag that I've missed that needs to be there, let me know and I'll fix it. 
> 
> Anyhow, enjoy!

Gabriel had no idea what to call what he was doing with Jack. The best comparison he could make was to having a disabled roommate; severely limited, but nothing about how those limitations affected Gabriel was out of laziness or malice, nor did it even feel like much of a nuisance. Especially when he came home from the first day of work post-Jack on Monday and found out that Jack had done every maintenance-related task on the laptop that Gabriel had been putting off.

"I defragged your hard drive," Jack had informed him the moment he'd gotten in the door. "And updated your browser, and fixed the ad blocker's settings. Also you had a ton of cookies and temporary files? Cleared those out." A pause. "I was bored, okay? Anyway. How was your day?"

Time proved that Jack's mastery of his domain was both incredible and incredibly constricting. He could use the toolbar at the bottom of the screen, could minimize and maximize windows, could do anything that required only a mouse and wasn't in fullscreen. But when things _were_ in fullscreen, he couldn't even squeeze his hand in to get to the taskbar, and he was restricted to being "underneath" the window. Fullscreen windowed mode at least allowed him to be on top of whatever it was, but also obscured his access to the task bar, and with no keyboard control, he had to manually find a menu button instead of using a shortcut.

If he were playing a game - something he did a lot of once Gabriel allowed him to install Steam - it had to be a game that could be controlled with the mouse only, otherwise Gabriel would have to come in and help. He couldn't jump into games either, even though he could interact with the UI; the worlds were as flat to him as they were from Gabriel's perspective.

Most annoyingly of all, though, whichever art program his file was open in had to be left open at all times. Which meant that it was always, _always_ a drain on CPU resources. This bothered Jack more than Gabriel, and not just because Jack was the more tech-literate of the two. The lag didn't affect Jack himself too terribly much, but it affected response times for whatever he was trying to do, which bugged the crap out of him.

"You need more RAM, seriously," Jack had said that Wednesday. "Eight gig? I'm amazed this thing hasn't caught fire."

Gabriel snorted. "And how do you propose I do that? Get a new laptop?"

"No, you crack open the case and look at what kind of RAM it has, then buy extra sticks of it." Perched on the taskbar with his leg hanging over the side, Jack watched as Gabriel went through the process of making dinner. Tonight's offering? Heavily seasoned cheese-and-bacon-covered potato wedges with breaded pork chops and buttery honeyed carrots.

Gabriel couldn't help wanting to put on a show with his cooking when he had an audience. "Doesn't that void the warranty?" he asked.

"I-- uh, y'know, I never considered that." Jack leaned back against the "wall" of his space, otherwise known as the edge of the screen. "Still though. How old is this thing?"

"Couple years."

"Then it's probably past the warranty anyway."

"Eh, good point." Gabriel absently licked honey off his fingers as he stirred the carrots with his other hand. "So. What season were we on?"

"Season two, next up is 'Cry for Help'. It's a really miserable episode."

"I like miserable episodes." Well, for a given definition of miserable. Usually by Jack's logic, _miserable_ meant _makes me feel things_ , and Gabriel was all for such things. If a show could make him feel things, it was a good show. "Unless you wanna give it a break and watch something else?"

Jack sighed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. "No, I need to catch up. And if I need to catch up, then I'd rather we both be on the same page instead of having to tiptoe around spoilers."

"That's fair. When's the next new episode?"

"Dunno. Lost track of the release schedule at this point." Things went quiet for a while as Jack seemed to settle and Gabriel kept cooking, companionable silence falling between them. They'd fallen into each others' orbits so easily that it was hard for Gabriel to believe they'd known each other less than a week. Perhaps it was the safety offered by Jack not being there physically; they weren't really exposed to each others' more gross and unpleasant sides, nor was either of them particularly threatened by the other's presence.

Or maybe there was something deeper there, something Gabriel was hesitant to entertain the notion of just yet. Refocusing himself back on making dinner, he cleared his throat to get Jack's attention. "So, I was wondering..."

Jack's eyes opened, and he turned his head just enough to look at Gabriel directly. "Hm?"

"The weekend's coming up, and I've got fuck-all else to do," Gabriel said. "Would it be okay if I tried to, uh... Paint you?"

"Paint me," Jack repeated, deadpan.

"Yeah. If it doesn't work I can bring you back to a previous save-state, but I've never actually tried to paint something that was already animated before." The artist in him was curious if he could, but the part of him that actually kind of liked Jack and hated the idea of him being miserable was reluctant. "Wanna see if I can. If it works, I'll paint your living space too. Kinda bring that to life a bit more."

A wry smirk spread over Jack's features. "So I'm your guinea pig."

"Well, in a way you've been my guinea pig this whole time," Gabriel noted. "But I'm not gonna do anything you don't agree to first."

Jack ducked his head. "Yeah. Noticed that. Thanks."

"Which part? I'm not sure if you're being sarcastic or not."

"You not doing anything I don't agree to." Jack's expression was somber, unreadable. "It's small, but it's nice."

Gabriel had a lot of things he wanted to say about that, but he wasn't sure what Jack's boundaries were yet. "Must've had a helluva home life," he eventually muttered, low and grim.

Jack's response was a bitter laugh. "Something along those lines, I guess," then, "--and as for your question, yes. Can't say I'd mind having a little more color."

"Alright. Friday night or Saturday?"

"Either works. It's not like I have a schedule, Gabe."

"Friday then. After dinner, once I've taken my meds." Something to look forward to.

Jack smiled to himself. "Sounds like a date to me."

"More like a life-drawing class," Gabriel told him. "Which, don't know if you know this or not, but life-drawing classes? Not sexy, definitely not glamourous, and not at all a ticket to getting laid."

"Y'know, I can't actually tell whether you're bullshitting."

"Trust me, I'm not."

Of course, this did not keep Jack's statement from making it impossible for Gabriel to sleep that night by dominating his brain in spite of all attempts to brush it off or ignore it, which should have been a sign that Gabriel was in too deep if ever there was one. But no, Gabriel was stubborn as well as a professional artist, which made him stubbornly professional about his art. Thus he told himself that he was imagining things, that Jack wasn't flirting, and that he was a better person than to fixate this hard on someone he'd known less than a week, especially when going farther than that was physically impossible.

Naturally, as was often the case with Jack, Gabriel was incorrect on several counts.

\---

On Friday, Gabriel was late leaving for work. Nothing he could really do about that; customers had stayed past closing, and then there was a spill to clean up that one of them had neglected to mention to anyone even though they were undoubtedly the cause. It was chilly by the time he got home, but he was reluctant to turn on the heat when getting the AC fixed for later in the year had already set him back (the landlord had blamed him for it being broken and made him pay for part of the repair, which was scheduled for the next Monday).

"Something on your shoes?" Jack asked when he caught Gabriel checking for footprints enough times to see a pattern in the behavior.

"Glitter bomb went off in aisle 7," Gabriel explained, finally giving up and taking the time to just peel off his shoes and leave them at the door.

Jack hummed in understanding. "Could leave the painting 'til tomorrow," he offered. "You look like you're half-dead."

"I could," was the mumbled reply.

"Okay." That was enough for Jack. "Leftovers and Netflix?"

The path of least resistance-- that was what Gabriel told himself as he settled in with Jack, eventually bringing his laptop into the bedroom and watching dumb anime well into the night with him. It didn't mean anything, he silently insisted when he brought his laptop back to his desk to charge it, feet shuffling; the way Jack laughed when he told Gabriel to "get some sleep, you nerd" didn't make Gabriel smile at all, not in the slightest.

He woke up in a sour mood that followed him into the shower, had him gently thumping his head against the tile in quiet frustration. Because he was happy, and he couldn't deny it, and having this much fun given the circumstances would surely become a poison later on. He couldn't afford to be so comfortable with Jack. Things would be so much more simple if he were miserable instead, or if Jack was an inconsiderate dickhead. Gabriel could handle that.

But liking him? That meant when he was gone, Gabriel would miss him.

Gabriel came out into the living room mostly-dry and wearing the barest minimum of what he could get away with considering Jack was around (IE, a worn-out shirt and sweats), gloomy and bitterly annoyed at the world. And when Jack perked up at the sight of him, Gabriel knew that if he looked, he was doomed to like what he saw.

"There you are," Jack said. Gabriel looked; Jack was in his plushie mound, having relocated it to his perch on the toolbar along with his pillows. Much of it had fallen over to obscure the Cortana search bar, and the window Jack currently had open was a Cracked article about obscure deep sea creatures. "Sleep well?"

Fuck. He was adorable. "Ask me after I've had coffee."

"You've had a shower. I heard the water running." Jack folded his arms. "You should be awake by now."

"I think spending literally all of your time asleep has fucked up your idea of what being tired is," Gabriel shot back, moving to the kitchen. Pouring himself into the act of making coffee, and most definitely Not Looking at the computer. "So."

"So?" Jack echoed.

"Ready to get painted?" Like a life drawing class, or doing body paint, or being a make-up artist. Nothing intimate about it. "If you wanna help, grab any selfies you might've posted that would make decent references."

"You say that like I'm the kind of person who takes a ton of selfies," Jack said defensively.

"Sunshine, you are definitely the kind of person who takes a ton of selfies. That blog picture alone probably took about six tries, one of which you deleted because you were doing the neck thing on accident."

"...Can I even do the-- hang on, I have to try this now."

Gabriel frowned deeply at the coffee filter as Jack's statement threw off his count of how much more he needed in the way of coffee grounds. "Try what?"

"The neck thing." Jack's tone had gone weird, sounding almost squashed and nasal. He was definitely doing the neck thing. Gabriel shook his head, dumped the grounds back into the container, and began his count all over again with a sigh. Jack was an idiot. A sweet, adorable idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.

He came back to his computer with his coffee in hand to find Jack putting together a reference folder full of selfies which, sure enough, Jack had in abundance. Even had a tag dedicated to them, judging by how the entire blog page he had open was one after another.

"Okay, so, maybe I do have a lot of these," Jack conceded, in the same tone someone might use to admit to having an alphabetized collection of shitty vampire erotica. "I just, I like taking them, okay? A-and my therapist said--"

"It's fine, Jack." Gabriel eased himself down into his chair and took over with the tablet to look through what Jack had put together; lousy at staging, boring fashion sense, but more than made up for by the high quality of the photos themselves, good lighting, and Jack himself just being generally photogenic and cute.

Jack wilted under Gabriel's scrutiny, clutching one of his plushies. "Will-- will these work?"

"You've got a lot of different angles and lighting schemes here, so yeah. It'll do just fine." Gabriel set his pen down and leaned back to stretch, popping his wrists. "Get your things and head back to where you and we'll get started, alright?"

A nod. "Yeah, alright."

(This also gave Gabriel time to put together a palette from the pictures, putting it on a completely seperate layer. There was technically a palette function, but he liked his method better; it allowed him to blend the colors as well as pick them out, and just generally gave him a chance to get used to the sensitivity of his tablet.)

"So, how long does it usually take to paint something?" Jack prodded, using what he called the Magic Door to go between windows and pick up all his things. It left Gabriel with the impression of a child told to clean their room.

Gabriel sighed. "Depends on what I'm painting. With you? Who knows. Gonna be a lot of zooming in on the fine details."

"Ballpark estimate, Gabe. Hours, days...?"

"Like I said, I don't know. That prank I told you about? Took upwards of a week to get it all finalized, and it was spring break with no retail job to get in the way."

"Point taken." Jack was quiet for all of about five seconds while out of sight and gathering up armfuls of pillows. Plushies fell on the "floor" of his space as he walked over to unceremoniously dump his things on the bed. "You gonna need me to, uh, strip down for this?"

"If you want. Shouldn't have to." The rule about being able to paint something's outside and have the inside look painted as well as long as Gabriel knew what it looked like probably applied here too. "Whatever you're comfortable with, honestly."

Jack nodded to himself. "Okay... Yeah." He took just enough time to close the Magic Door before settling onto his bed with a quiet sigh. "Where do you want me?"

"Right there's fine." Gabriel hit _save_. Just in case. "Hold out your hand for me."

A hand was held out, and after selecting the area that was Jack's background layer and then making a new pinned layer on top of that (just to make sure there weren't any weird overlapping smears), Gabriel zoomed in. Moment of truth; the first brushstroke made Jack flinch slightly, leaving a smear of color on his hand. A nervous giggle bubbled out of him. "Sorry. Tickles a little."

"Gotta hold still, Jack."

"Yeah, I know, sorry, just..." Jack held his hand back out again. "Keep going. It's not bad, just weird."

Probably because Jack wasn't used to feeling much of anything like this. Gabriel kept going, one stroke after another, the process getting easier as Jack got used to holding still. Changing colors occasionally as he shaped the knuckles, the veins, the nails and cuticles and joints and tendons. It wasn't so dissimilar from the sort of painting Gabriel was used to, aside from having an undo button; he found himself falling into the same sort of calm, quiet state that he so often did while concentrating.

Jack, too, was quiet. For a while. "Wow," he murmured eventually, when his hand had been mostly painted up to the wrist and Gabriel was taking a moment to pick a different color again. "You're-- you're really good at this."

"Not that good," Gabriel replied. "I'll probably end up doing this part over once I'm more used to the tablet."

"Well, yeah, okay but--" Jack moved his hand just enough for it to be obvious that he was examining it. "Gabe, I could never do anything like this."

Gabriel smiled to himself. "It's just practice."

That made Jack huff indignantly. "Just take the damn compliment, alright?"

It took a lot of self-control for Gabriel to not say outright that Jack was cute when he was annoyed.

 


	7. beaming sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings and frank discussions ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where it begins y'all. Warnings probably don't start here, they'll be in next chapter, but like. Jack is still really, really messed up. Both of them are. Their common ground is the way their neuroses mesh together more often than not. But that also means that their fights usually stem from the way those neuroses clash when things aren't communicated properly or outside forces put them at odds with one another.
> 
> Basically, it wouldn't be R76 without a little confrontation and conflict, and this is the chapter where that starts. So I'll understand if people who were in it for the fluff decide to call it quits after this.

Jack was the one to notice that Gabriel's prescription is running low; the sound of the bottle was what tipped him off, rattling in Gabriel's hands as he plucked a pill out on autopilot after a long painting session trying to get a few of Jack's plushies done.

"Do you have to make appointments for refills too?" Jack asked him.

Gabriel let out a long sigh. "Yeah." He took a moment to count out the doses he had left before pouring them back into the bottle. "Should call in tomorrow. Then I need to get the day off--"

"Want me to help?"

That got Jack a weird look. Or, well, a weirder look than normal; it was always odd to see Jack in color, vibrant against the white background. Even having spent as much time as he had on the details - the constellations he could draw in those freckles, the sweep of eyelashes, the barest hint of a farmer's tan - it was still surprising how easy it was to get caught up in those eyes, how he could never allow himself to focus on them for too long or he'd get distracted. "How?"

"Could use Skype. Make the calls so you don't have to." Jack shrugged. "I mean, unless it doesn't recognize my voice as being a thing to pick up. That would be a problem."

Gabriel had to smile. "Which of us has anxiety again?"

"It's easier when it's for someone else! A-and, I just--" Folding his arms, Jack huffed and moved on to looking anywhere but at Gabriel. "I want to do something for you, damn it. Do you have any idea how frustrating this is?"

The smile faded as quickly as it came. "Jack, you do plenty for me."

"Like what, existing? Driving up your electric bill? Making your laptop overheat?" Jack scoffed, but it didn't sound quite right. Almost like he was falling apart. "Y'know, I tried-- I went to log into my bank accounts, like, remotely? I thought, maybe I could get something for you. And y'know what happened? Accounts got frozen."

Gabriel winced. Yeah, because Jack wasn't at the right address. The GeoIP would make it look like his accounts had been hijacked. "You don't have to do anything for me, sunshine."

"See? That's exactly what I--" Truncating the statement with a frustrated growl, Jack plopped into his mound of now-colored plushies and picked up an armful of them to bury his face in them and make a noise that sounded like a dying whale.

It would be adorable if the cause of it didn't seem like something a hell of a lot deeper than a single incident. "Wanna talk about it?" Gabriel suggested.

Jack let out a muffled, exasperated groan into his armful of soft things. " _No_."

"Want me to get outta your hair for a bit?" There was more of a pause there as Jack squeezed his eyes shut for several seconds instead of responding. "Jack?"

A quieter, more mournful "no" was the answer.

"Okay." Gabriel could work with that. "What is it you wanna do, then? I'm sure we could find a way to take your mind off this crap."

"I'm up for whatever you wanna do," Jack mumbled.

"Well tough shit, since what I want is to get you to stop moping." That got Jack to snort. "C'mon, Jackie. Don't make me pull out the show tunes."

"If show tunes are what you're in the mood for, I won't stop you," Jack said with a shrug. "I think your voice is great."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I say show tunes? I meant show tunes while doing an impression of Bloo from Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends." Like a dam breaking, Jack burst into full-bodied laughter that had him curling in on himself; Gabriel just grinned and went on to say, " _it's_ _hot_ _in Topeka_ ," which made Jack laugh even harder.

He was in tears by the time it wound down, eyes glittering with it. "You fucking nerd," he wheezed, shaking his head.

"Fucking delight, you mean."

"That too," Jack said, but he didn't even give Gabriel enough time to wonder about the sincerity of such a statement before he cleared his throat to continue. "But, uh. Yeah. I-- I'll be fine. You don't need to do anything special for me. But um, thanks. For, for putting up with me. And, y'know, everything else."

"Jack..." Gabriel sighed, bowing his head and frowning. It took him longer than usual to come up with a statement that was sincere enough to feel like an adequate reply... No, that wasn't it. He had a sincere reply right away. Several, even. He just didn't have any that weren't terrifying to think about. And if they were scary for him to consider, he couldn't imagine how Jack would take them. With his lower lip caught between his teeth, and his bright eyes, and the way he clutched his armfuls of soft things like a lifeline.

It would be so easy to break him, just by saying the wrong thing. Any amount of emotional weight at all could remind Jack that things between them were terribly finite, and such a realization could shatter Jack into a thousand pieces. Because the reality was that Jack hadn't woken up yet; he was still dreaming, his body still on life support somewhere. The longer he slept, the less likely it was he would wake up at all.

And even if he did wake up, then what? The likelihood that he'd even remember Gabriel at all was slim to none, and if he did remember anything at all, it wasn't like Gabriel had earned any right to be a part of the life Jack would inevitably go back to.

The sound of a throat being cleared brought Gabriel's attention back to the screen. "Gabe?" Jack's voice was mostly steady again; he really was better at handling shit when he was able to focus on other people. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just..." Something had to be said. Something that would help. "You're not as much of a pain in the ass as you think you are, Jackie. Not to me." Shit, wait, was that helpful?

Nope. Jack was giving him the big wobbly eyes again. "Gabe..."

"Look, I'm not an expert, but," seriously if Jack started actually crying then Gabriel would probably have to leave the room because he was zero amounts good with people crying, "I'm pretty sure you're not anywhere near as bad as you think you are. And if I'm gonna be honest," _why was Jack looking even more upset,_ "I gotta say, you're probably the best roommate I've ever had. So, yeah."

Jack sniffled and hiccuped and buried his face in his plushes. For a very brief moment Gabriel thought he'd fucked something up (had he let something slip that he shouldn't have? Had he said something wrong?). That thought lasted right up until Jack looked up at him again, beaming at him with watery eyes; once that happened, Gabriel realized he'd fucked up in the exact opposite direction.

He'd gone and gotten himself absolutely smitten.

"Stop being so nice to me, damn it," Jack protested weakly, his smile bright.

Gabriel chuckled. "You'd have to give me a helluva reason at this point, sunshine."

Yep, completely fucked.

\---

Doctor Adawe was probably the first shrink Gabriel had ever met that he actually liked. For starters, she introduced herself by saying he could call her Gabrielle, then adding "but I understand if that's a little weird for you," because she'd actually picked up on what the pronunciation of his name was probably supposed to be. Second, she was the only one he'd talked to who seemed to actually understand that his mood swings when he was at his worst didn't happen in a vacuum-- something he'd even have trouble seeing himself, sometimes.

But most importantly of all, she didn't ever treat him like he didn't know shit about himself. Or at least, she hadn't yet. Gabriel would probably never quite trust any authority figure fully, even if they seemed benevolent and trustworthy. He was just jaded like that (thankfully, she seemed to understand that, too).

"You seem to be doing well," she remarked as he eased himself into the comfortable (if a bit undersized for someone who was a smidge over six feet tall) plush chair designated for patients.

The leather creaked beneath him, underscoring his tired sigh. "As well as anybody does these days," he replied, sliding forward until his ass was almost falling off the edge of the seat. "Dunno if you've noticed, doc, but things are kinda fucked right now."

"Oh, I've noticed." Her tone told him a great deal about how she felt about the situation at large. "Still, you look like you've got your own life mostly handled, at least."

Gabriel raised a brow. "How so?"

"For one thing, you look like you've slept. And shaved. You even look like you've been eating better." The doctor pressed her delicately manicured fingertips together. "And that brace on your hand says you've managed to work your way out of that art block you told me about last time."

With a huff, Gabriel pulled his right hand up a bit closer to his chest as if to protect it, not making eye contact. "Could say that." Jack had caught him massaging his wrist one too many times and finally told him that he should probably wear a brace for it if it was that bad. And in spite of how Gabriel would like to insist it _wasn't_ that bad, he was also the idiot that had walked around on a broken foot once after falling out of a window in college, so he probably didn't have any concept of what "bad" was.

Meanwhile, the doctor's response was merely a thoughtful hum. "Current dose still doing its job? No changes in symptoms, side effects?"

"Huh?" Gabriel blinked, his brain taking a second to catch up and process the question. "Oh. Yeah, it's fine. No problems as far as I can tell."

"Mmhm. I see." He did not trust that tone. "No changes in stress levels, no drastic lifestyle shifts, no--"

Fuck. Alright. Fine. "I've met someone," he blurted, eyes squeezed shut.

Silence. He opened his eyes and saw she was looking at him, waiting for him to continue.

"I-- It's stupid," and yet so very important, Gabriel knew. "He's nowhere near the kind of person I'd usually go for. Some nobody farmboy from the ass-end of nowhere out in Indiana. He runs an aesthetic blog, for chrissaakes. Got in an accident like a dumbass, and now he's got nobody to talk to but me." He ran a hand over his face, irritated with himself. "Spends so goddamn much time trying to be everything to everyone that I don't even think he knows what being himself really _is_. Holds it so close to the chest and acts so ashamed of it that he's probably barely had time to actually look and see what's in there. And now he's got nothing to give and it makes him think he's worthless, when in reality he's-- he's..."

Gabriel let out a frustrated growl and pressed the heels of his palms (both the one with the brace and the one without) against his eyelids until he saw stars.

"He's so-- it's like, when I talk to him I think of a sketch that turns out better than the lineart and painted final product. Or, or like a drawing by an amateur that makes the professional work next to it look stiff and dull. Or a brightly saturated patch of color in the foreground of a monochromatic piece. He's so vibrant in contrast to where he comes from and what he oughta be considering what he's had to work with, and I've never met anyone with that much capacity to _care_ about shit."

By that point, Gabriel was so wrapped up in his explanation that he didn't even notice the doctor's soft, bemused smile.

"It's so fucking dumb, too. He should be at that intersection of things that piss me off, one way or another; he's white, he's scared of his own shadow, he's self-centered. But the only thing that pisses me off so far is how little he's pissed me off since I've met him. Every time I come close, I can always see the thing that's causing whatever his stupid behavior of the moment is and I can't hate him for it. I could never hate him. Dangerous situation to be in, I know; it'd be too easy for someone to take advantage of that. But not him. Never him. He's not capable. He cries when he watches cat rescue videos."

"And that's why you care about him?" she asked.

"Yeah. Something like that." An understatement, Gabriel thought, but one he'd allow because he didn't know if he was ready to admit to anything beyond that. "Thing is, though... Facts are facts, y'know? I can't do jack shit from where I am, and he's stuck where he is. And when he gets better? That's it. I'm out of his life. He's got no reason to need me around, or even think of me."

"Except if he wants to."

Gabriel made another indescribable noise of irritation; it's worth noting that by that point, he was situated in the chair in such a way that he'd managed to end up leaned on one arm with his feet hanging over the other, completely sideways from how one is usually intended to sit in chairs. "I've got no reason to think he would. No right to it."

She hummed again. "Have you asked his opinion?"

"I--" He faltered, hesitating. For a second his heart caught in his throat. "No."

"Then you should probably get on that," she told him.

 


	8. warning/fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then it all falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING: there is a strong implication of suicidal ideation in this chapter.** It's not explicitly approached but the point of warnings is to WARN PEOPLE and I'd rather be safe than sorry. 
> 
> See, now you know it's gonna get interesting.

On the way home from the appoinment, it had started raining. Gabriel was sopping wet when he got in the door, kicking off his shoes and moving to the kitchen while in the process of tugging off articles of clothing. He set his prescription down on the counter as he went; thankfully, a small hole in the bag had kept water from gathering in the bottom.

"Man, gotta love them unpredictable weather patterns, right?" he called out, not looking at the laptop on his desk; he was too busy peeling off his hoodie so he could wring it out over the sink. "Yeah, climate change definitely isn't real, couldn't possibly be. Heat waves and downpours this early in the year? That's nothing."

His shirt was the next thing to come off, followed by his socks; the hoodie was draped over the back of a chair, and once they were wrung out as well, the shirt was put over the side of the sink while the socks got hung over the faucet.

"Getting to work tomorrow's gonna be a pain in the ass. Parking lot's gonna be half-flooded, I bet." The last thing Gabriel had to tug off was his jeans, which he did debate on for a minute, but being proper didn't take precedence over being soaked, so they had to go too. After he got everything out of his pockets, anyway. "Probably gonna be a few accidents on the way too, since people don't know how to fucking drive."

It was weird, though. Jack was being so much quieter than usual.

"Think I can get away with calling in?" Gabriel asked, frowning a little to himself. Trying to initate a conversation.

Nothing.

"Jack?" He paused in wringing the water out of his jeans, brow furrowing. "You okay back there, sunshine?"

Why wasn't Jack talking to him?

"This isn't about me beating you at Cards Against Humanity, is it? I know I kicked your ass pretty hard the other night, but..." No. Something was wrong, something was different.

Gabriel gave it a few more seconds before he was making a beeline for the computer, shoving his way into his seat. The screen was on; it hadn't gone into hibernation. He didn't even have it set up to do that anymore, because Jack hated it when it did.

He tabbed until he got to the art program window, and froze at what he saw. Jack was sitting on his bed, a leg pulled up to his chest with his cheek resting against his knee and his arms wrapped around his shin. His eyes were unfocused, dull.

And he wasn't moving.

"Jackie?" Gabriel's voice was small, fragile. "Come on, baby. Wake up. Talk to me."

Like flipping a switch, Jack jolted back to life with a gasp and such a violent jerk that his arm flew out and knocked one of his plushes off his bed. "What? Huh? Oh, Gabe. I-it's you."

Gabriel heaved a sigh, relief flooding him. "Scared me for a second, sunshine."

"I-I did? What's, uh, what's wrong?" A pause. "And why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"That's not important right now." Jack hadn't been moving. He hadn't even been stimming, or breathing. He'd been stock still; a flat painting. All the life sucked out. "Are you okay?"

Jack winced at the question. "I-I'm fine. I'm, hah, more concerned about your lack of shirt than anything--"

"Forget about that," Gabriel snapped, but his anger was fleeting; the way Jack flinched away from him made him feel sick inside, and he went from short-tempered to apologetic within seconds in a way that he hadn't done in a long time. "That's not-- no, it's okay. It's not what I'm focused on right now, all right? I'm more concerned about you."

"Jesus, remind me never to piss you off," Jack mumbled.

Gabriel slumped in his chair, running a hand over his face. Jack was moving again, talking again. It was okay. He needed to calm down before he scared Jack too. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Something upset you."

God, Jack needed to stop being so perfect. "You weren't moving. You weren't even talking, or breathing, or--" Gabriel's breath caught, and he had to take a second to gather himself. When he looked up, though, he realized Jack looked... Guilty? "Has this happened before?"

"I..." Jack bit his lip, gripping the fabric of his pant leg. "Yes." And the fact that Gabriel didn't know about it meant Jack had gone through it alone. "I've been, uh... Losing time. I'll space out or drift off and then I come back and a half hour's gone by."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Couple days. I-I didn't want to worry you." Jack wilted, curling in on himself. "I thought I could hide it."

Didn't want to worry him? Kind of impossible at that point. Gabriel always worried about the people he cared about. "I'm gonna shower and get some clothes on, and then we're gonna talk about this," he said, leveling a stern look at Jack.

A slow nod was the response. "Got it."

"Okay." Gabriel started to stand up out of his chair, still peering at the laptop intently. "Don't do that shit again while I'm not here, got it?"

"Not sure if I can--"

"I'm serious, Jack." Gabriel wasn't sure how much more freaking out he could handle. "I need you to stay with me long enough for us to figure this shit out, alright? I don't think that's asking too much."

Jack drew in a shuddering breath. "I'll... I'll try."

"That's all you have to do." At least Gabriel wasn't the only one that seemed scared. "Whatever happens, I'm with you, alright?"

"Yeah. Okay." Jack smiled. It was a tiny, tenuous thing, but it was a smile. Gabriel took it as a good sign.

To hell with what his therapist had said. Jack came first, well before anything Gabriel might want. He had to figure this out for Jack's sake, and to do that he needed time to himself to think. And to think, he needed to not be a cold, damp, jumpy mess.

As the rain continued to hammer against the windows, Gabriel stalked off to take his shower and prayed in his head to every deity he could think of that Jack would still be there when he got out.

\---

Fifteen minutes after he'd called her to tell her something was wrong, Ana was at his door with take-out. She shoved the bags at him unceremoniously as she came inside, closing her umbrella and setting it down by the door. The color of her hijab was a bright turquoise, with a slightly darker and duller version of the same for her shirt and tan slacks to bring it all together.

"You forget to eat when you have something on your mind," she explained, walking past him. "Yes, I got you an egg roll. Where is he?"

"I'm over here," Jack replied before Gabriel had a chance to. Ana's eyes scanned the front room until she caught sight of the computer on the counter, and headed right for it.

Secretly relieved, Gabriel set about getting plates and bowls and utensils for the food, letting himself get lost in the monotony of the task as Ana took over with Jack. Because it'd been an hour, and he and Jack still weren't any closer to finding answers on their own. And in that hour, Jack had drifted off twice.

Thankfully, Jack got along well enough with her for socializing and anxiety to not be that much of a problem. "Hey, Ana," he said, waving from his spot on his bed with the fidget cube held in his other hand. A full-color bed, with a full-color room, and full-color plushes to nest in, and full-color soft carpet for his feet. "Fareeha's not with you?"

"No, not today," she said with a sigh, pulling up a barstool in front of the computer and setting her purse down on the counter. She looked and sounded tired. Probably got out of work just prior to coming over. "Her father has her for the moment. I don't pick her up until tomorrow."

"How are things with Reinhardt?"

"Well enough. He's considering taking a nighttime culinary course once the next semester starts, did you know?"

"That's the summer semester, right?" Ana nodded, and Jack had to snicker. "Well, I mean, at least the college is air conditioned."

Ana chuckled. Then she murmured a quiet _thanks_ as Gabriel handed her a coke from the fridge, opening it without a thought to take a sip. "What about you? Gabriel tells me something's wrong."

That was the point where Jack wilted. "Yeah, I uh... I'm not--uh. It's, it's getting harder to stay here."

"Is it now?" She shot a glance at Gabriel, who shied away from her. Yeah, he... Wasn't feeling up to getting interrogated. "How so?"

Jack was fidgeting with his cube in earnest by that point. "I... I'm losing time. It's just a few minutes every so often, a-and it feels like that nothing-feeling again but it's like I'm being dragged closer to-- to whatever it is. Something. Like getting trapped in a current."

"And you don't want to be there," Ana guessed. "Is that right?"

"Yeah." Even without looking, Gabriel could hear Jack's tone wavering, and it damn near broke his heart to hear it. "Yeah, no, I wanna stay. I don't-- I don't wanna leave."

She leaned back in her seat, tapping her pinky and ring fingers against her can of coke. "Can you tell what might be waiting for you on the other side? Do you know?"

"I-it's the same. Same as before, I mean. Except everything's a little closer and louder and more _there_. The beeping, the machines. The closer I get the more I can feel. Scratchy sheets, something cold on my face, AC turned up too high. Pain, too, like--" Jack gestured to his forehead and made a slashing motion, cutting across the air over his face, "--like a scar, a bad one. Pulls and twinges. Along with this ache, a sort of a bone-deep throb around my nose. A-and, uh, my throat. It feels raw, like--"

"Like you haven't had anything to drink apart from intravenous solution in three weeks?" Ana supplied.

Jack nodded. "Sort of like that, yeah."

"Sounds to me like you're close to waking up."

A fork went clattering to the floor as Gabriel fumbled it; both Jack and Ana looked up at the noise, and he bit back a curse.

He'd known this was coming. "Sorry," he said. "Don't mind me. Act like I'm not here."

"You're sure, Ana?" Jack asked. "Gabriel said it might also be that, um, that I'm... I'm dying? Maybe?"

"If you were dying, the pull would be in the appropriate direction," Ana noted. "Would you rather that were the case?"

Jack didn't say anything, avoiding eye contact in favor of staring at his fidget cube. Both hands were on it by that point.

This was enough for Ana. "I see," she said.

"I don't wanna go back," Jack admitted, faint and quiet. "I, I don't... I-if I have to leave then fine, but if the alternative is going back there--"

"We know, Jack," she soothed. "But I doubt there's anything that either of us can do about it in this case. And if you were to die, your soul would rot without a body if you tried to stay."

"But Gabe can bring me back, can't he?" Even without looking, Gabriel knew that Jack's eyes were on him. "Just do the magic over again. You're the one who brought me here."

Gabriel closed his eyes. "That was a fluke. I don't think I could pull it off again, and I definitely wouldn't be able to pull it off if your soul had already re-anchored itself back where it belongs." It was hard to breathe. Hard to think. He felt like he was suffocating. "I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry?"_ Jack bubbled up with a manic sort of laugh. "What the hell kind of good is that gonna do for me, huh?"

"Jack, please," Ana urged, looking between the screen and Gabriel. "This isn't his fault."

"Like hell it isn't! He drags me here, makes me think there's actually some fucking _good_ in this goddamn world, and then just when I think things are starting to really go well, it all turns to shit and all he can say is that he's _sorry?"_

Gabriel dug his fingers into the edge of the counter, into the peeling laminate. "Yeah," he said. Since when had his voice gotten so rough? "I'm sorry."

Jack's reply was a snarl. "Bull. Shit."

"Probably, yeah." He wasn't sorry for treating Jack like a person, or being kind, or falling for him. He was sorry for a lot of things surrounding Jack, but not those. "I guess it's better this way."

Both Ana and Jack frowned at him, but Jack was the one to say something. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"This. You, being mad at me. If your body's trying to wake up, it's probably better for you to not try and fight it." His grip relaxed, and he defaulted to picking idly at the cheap laminate instead. "I'm not enough of a hardass to try forcing you to leave, and to be honest I don't want to. But I don't want you staying here to bite you in the ass later, either."

The more Gabriel spoke, the more Jack softened. "Gabe, what..."

Gabriel resumed putting the food out onto plates with a sigh, suddenly regretting having said anything. "Look, don't read too much into it, alright?" Because anything was too much. Jack was too perceptive, too good at reading into what Gabriel said and did. Three weeks of domesticity and he practically knew Gabriel inside and out. "This isn't about me."

"You want me to stay," Jack mumbled. "You actually-- you, you want me here."

"I want you to be happy," Gabriel told him. "And healthy. And safe."

Jack let out a weak huff of laughter. "I always thought you just felt bad for me."

"That too." But the thing about contrasts was that it always brought out the individual strengths of the colors in question all the more, and Jack? Jack was stronger and brighter than he had any right to be. "Not that it matters now."

"Of course it matters--"

"No. It doesn't. It _can't_ , okay? I don't want you to--" Gabriel sucked in a sharp breath. "I. I'm not sure I could handle it being my fault if you died, alright? And even if you don't, you might never be able to fully recover if you don't go back when you're supposed to. Human brains are weird like that."

Ana murmured something soft and sympathetic in a language Gabriel didn't know; when he looked, he saw that both she and Jack were staring at him. There was no turning back. They knew, both of them did. Ana in particular knew him well enough to know that this sort of caring was a rare thing for him, something he barely ever allowed.

She'd know, even if Jack didn't, that if he was admitting to anything at all it meant there was even more going on under the surface than he could even begin to say. "At least if you're alive, you've got a chance to be happy and keep going," he continued. "I won't let you throw that away just for my sake."

Jack watched him for a long time, considering. Quiet. Somewhere behind those pretty blue eyes, his thoughts were going a mile a minute. Whatever brain activity monitors he was hooked up to were probably freaking right the fuck out. "You're saying I should let go?" he asked slowly, as if for clarification.

Gabriel nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay." Jack offered a smile, but something about it was off. There was an odd kind of stubborn determination in it, in his eyes. "Then that's exactly what I won't do."

Something caught in Gabriel's chest. "Jack, don't--"

"No. Not a word." Jack held up his hand in a motion for Gabriel to stop. "You've done all this shit for me, and the least I can do is hold on a little longer for you. Okay?"

Silence reigned for several moments in Gabriel's kitchen, settling over the whole front room. Broken only by the rain on the windows, on the roof, on the outer walls of the building. Even when Ana tapped her fingernails against her coke can again, it sounded almost startlingly loud.

"I can see why you like this one," she said finally, her voice cutting through the humid air like a knife. "Let me know if you ever get tired of him, won't you? I'd be more than happy to take him off your hands."

At least some things didn't change.

 


	9. love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last chapter of them together before we get into the final stretch of story. I'm sorry I didn't post this yesterday, but I've had a ton of shit going on lately and it's not likely to get any less exhausting. x.x; On the plus side, I'm done writing all but the last... two or so chapters, so there's enough content prewritten to last for a bit even if I don't write anything new. hhhhhhhhh i'm tired
> 
> yeah, this one... this one's sad. Bring tissues, folks. There is heartache to come. 
> 
> (and a little more worldbuilding)

Everything after that was a little hazy for Gabriel. The conversation kept going without him, with Ana and Jack slipping into a discussion that he barely followed. When he ate, he did so mechanically, unthinkingly. The only sure thing was a single thought repeating in his mind: it was too late. He was in too deep, with no guarantee that Jack would remember any of this, or even any certainty as to whether or not Jack would actually be okay.

He was scared. Loss had never been something he was good at handling to begin with, but loss with the added weight of uncertainty behind it was definitely worse. And the fact that Jack was handling it so much better left a bitter taste in Gabriel's mouth, if for no other reason than it making Jack that little bit harder to pull away from. It would be so much easier if Jack would do something, _anything_ to make Gabriel not want to care.

A hand on his shoulder startled him, causing him to jerk back and almost unbalance his barstool. He looked down, and Ana was staring back at him; sympathetic, kind. "Is there anything else you might need?"

"A stiff drink?" he suggested dryly, then held up a hand before Ana could actually go along with it. "Kidding. No, I'll be fine. Thanks, though."

She sighed, casting a glance at Jack before returning her attention to Gabriel as she slung her purse over her shoulder. "All right. If anything else comes up, you know how to contact me."

"Yeah." He tried to come up with more to say, but ended up drawing a blank. His attention drifted, inevitably, to the laptop on the counter. To Jack, toying nervously with his fidget cube and refusing to look at Gabriel directly.

He barely registered Ana leaving, the sound of the door closing behind her hardly even a blip on his radar. The way Jack let out a long, steadying breath through his nose after she left took up too much of Gabriel's focus to think about much else.Still so expressive, so alive. All the subtle hints of his body language, his facial expression, the way he held himself. It was so easy to read him, just based on visual cues alone.

Would he ever realize how striking a thing that was in Gabriel's estimation as an artist alone?

Jack chewed his lip and spared the briefest of glances at Gabriel before looking away. "So," he said, "that happened."

Gabriel nodded slowly. "You okay?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine, just--" Another moment to breathe as those bright eyes became squeezed shut. "That. Isn't exactly how I wanted things to go."

"Hah." Practically on autopilot at that point, Gabriel started picking up dishes and such from around the kitchen, gathering them all into a stack to bring them over to his laughably small dishwasher. "No shit."

"I-I mean. How'd, um, h-how'd you picture it going?"

"Tried not to, honestly."

A huff. "Y'know, you're really bad at this 'reassuring people' thing." Jack's pout was audible. "Okay, fine. If you were to think about it, a-and... If I were there, like really there--"

Gabriel let out an exasperated sigh and paused in loading the dishwasher just long enough to give Jack a pained look. "Jack..."

"No, seriously. Humor me for a second." Jack sat up a little straighter on the bed and gestured for Gabriel to give him a moment, using the hand that was holding his fidget cube. "If I were there, how would you-- well, y'know. Ask me out, or whatever."

Jack was really determined to air everything out, wasn't he? Gabriel went back to loading the dishwasher as he took a moment to think on his answer, eventually coming up empty-handed and moving to lean forward against the edge of the kitchen sink. "First, I'd make sure you were interested."

"Sounds solid."

"I'd tell you how much you meant to me. I'd try to be honest about it." Gabriel pointedly ignored Jack's snicker at that. "Then if you were into that as a concept, I'd paint something for you, just for you. And I'd set it up where you'd have a chance to see it, and once you did, that'd be when I let it loose." He spread his hands up and out, as if to illustrate. "Then I'd probably fuck you on my drafting table. If you were amenable."

For several seconds, Jack was quiet. "Wow," he breathed. "Okay. That, that went from zero to sixty way faster than I thought it would."

"You did ask."

"Well, yeah. But I thought the answer was going to be flower language or a nice date or something."

Gabriel chuckled. "Lemme guess, that'd be your approach?"

"Hey, it requires a lot more forethought and creativity than you'd think." Jack rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. "Although it does also require that your date not be deathly allergic to said flowers in massive quantities."

"Jack, what did you do."

"Something dumb. Look, I was seventeen, okay?" He flopped back onto his bed to stare a proverbial hole in the "ceiling" of his room. "Anyway."

"Anyway...?" Gabriel watched as Jack rolled onto his side, facing the screen to peer at the artist thoughtfully. "Seems like you've got something on your mind there, sunshine."

Jack's gaze flicked away for a second, almost guilty. "Just thinking."

"Care to share with the rest of the class?"

"I--well. It's stupid, y'know? And it's probably just my brain being dumb and awful again, but..." One of his hands fisted in the sheets. "I was just thinking of how quickly you'll move past this. When I'm gone, I mean."

Gabriel's expression softened, and he let out a quiet sigh as he walked over to gather up the laptop so he could bring it back to his desk to charge it. "I've never been good at moving past things."

"Really? I-I mean, I thought, since you've done this before and all--"

"No." He set the laptop down again and went about plugging all the bits back in. "Not like this. And even if I had, it's not _this_ that worries me."

Jack pushed himself back up to a sitting position to frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I, I'm not," Gabriel's voice cracked on the second word and he had to take a moment to breathe. "I don't take well to losing people. Never have. I obsess, I do stupid shit. Not stalking or anything, but nothing healthy either. More self-destructive. It's not anyone's fault but mine."

"Doesn't really sound like it's yours either."

"No. It is." Finally settling down into his chair, Gabriel felt exhausted. Not physically, but emotionally. "I care too much, Jack. I'm too intense. But just because I can't shut it off doesn't mean I can't exert some measure of control over it."

Jack's mouth curved in a faint smirk. "You're either very fast, or very sad, and sometimes you're both?"

"Don't you quote space mom at me." Although the reference did make Gabriel smile. "But yeah. You've got me feeling all three of my emotions. Sometimes as many as five. And when that happens, I don't do endings well."

"So we're equally shit at this," Jack concluded. "If it helps, at least my crazy is looking at your crazy and going 'aw, he really does care'."

Not so much with the unhealthy fixation part, but the general idea of both of them being nuts? Yeah, that helped. "You okay to watch more Voltron?" Gabriel asked in lieu of an answer.

Jack perked up and bounced right to his feet, taking a second to stretch. "Yeah! I mean, yeah. Think so. Feel free to poke me if I space out, though."

"Ha. Space out."

"Shut up, nerd."

Time to enjoy what time they had.

\---

The next morning, Gabriel called in to take a sick day, putting on the grossest cough he could manage that honestly left him feeling hoarse afterward. He gave fair warning that he might need Monday off too, and while his boss was deeply annoyed with him, he was able to sway her with the Customers With Weak Immune Systems argument, a point she was forced to concede. He felt giddy after hanging up, full of nervous energy; he hadn't faked a sick day since high school, and that had been for the sake of going to a concert.

Or he could've been giddy because all the fake-coughing had left him lightheaded. That was also a possibility.

With practice, Jack got better at resisting being pulled back to reality. Gabriel could always tell when he was doing it, because it always looked for a moment like he was about to pass out when it happened. Sometimes, he'd reach out and try to grab things for purchase, dragging icons and dialogue boxes and open windows with him; sometimes, all he'd do was sway for a second as his breath caught and he shook his head as if to rid it of the feeling.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Gabriel was starting to get paranoid every time he walked away from the computer, wondering whether each time would be the last. On Sunday, Jack confided in him that fighting back was getting harder and harder to do.

On Monday, Gabriel let Jack in on his most intimate and private activity of all: he brought Jack with him into his spare room to watch him paint.

An old sheet was laid out on the floor, the futon was folded back up. All the supplies were brought out of the closet, set out on a secondhand side table, while the easel and drafting table were pulled out and set up in their usual places (the easel in the middle of the room, the drafting table up against a wall). Three barstools from the kitchen were brought in as well, the laptop set out on one and plugged into the wall so Gabriel wouldn't have to limit himself to whatever its charge was. Another was for Gabriel, set in front of the easel with the side table well within reach.

The blinds were closed. The light from the ceiling fan as well as the light from his standing lamp were both turned on, with their specialized true-light bulbs providing what was practically a spotlight for him to work with. The Not Coffee mug was filled with water and set down on the side table, while Gabriel's can of coke was set aside on the third chair, with Jack keeping watch over it.

"I'm guessing there's a story behind the Not Coffee mug," Jack mused. He sounded so tired, so out of it. He'd been fighting for so long just to stay that little bit longer, to be there when Gabriel woke up in the mornings.

All they could do was make the most of what they had. "Yeah," Gabriel agreed, "there is."

"Gonna tell me that story?"

"What's there to tell? Mix-ups happen." Gabriel pulled a canvas out from the closet, a fairly large 24-by-36 size, bringing it over to the easel and setting it up portrait-style. Then he opened one of the many cases of supplies on his side table and pulled out a hard-lead art pencil to begin his sketch. "Even better when you end up putting the paintbrush in the coffee mug. Then you drink it anyway because fuck it, who cares."

"Ahh. Well, just so y'know, I can't see what you're drawing from here. I think the pencil's too light."

"That's on purpose. Kinda." Gabriel backed off for a second to eye the proportions before going back to his sketching. "Don't worry. This part won't take long."

"Mm." Jack was still watching him though, even if the drawing itself wasn't too visible. "You're really a professional, aren't you?"

Gabriel grinned to himself. "Hope so. Busted my ass to get that way."

"I could sort of tell before, with the tablet. I love watching you. It's not always obvious what something's gonna turn out like, but you always seem to know what you want something to look like in your head, and then it does." Jack hummed thoughtfully, leaning his chin against his hand with his elbow in his lap. "I think that's a kind of magic too. I mean, it's magic to me."

"Nah, it's a skill." The soft _skritch-scritch_ of a pencil on canvas, their conversation, the act of drawing itself-- Gabriel felt so at home, right then. Calm, and safe. "The magic's in what you do with that skill once you have it."

"Still think it's cool," Jack mumbled. There was a pause after that, then, "Gabriel?"

Gabriel looked up from his sketching. "Hm?"

"Are there any rules about witches having familiars?" Jack pouted at Gabriel's snort of laughter. "I'm serious. I feel like if I try to find other magic-people knowing as little as I do it'll be like showing up to prom in bunny slippers and a Pikachu onesie."

Now there was a mental image. "Well, I don't have one, but my mamá had a black cat with one eye. She'd always cover the windows up come Halloween so the neighborhood kids wouldn't see him and get ideas." Gabriel sketched as he spoke, wistful. "She said he was good luck. He pretended to hate my mom, but I know for a fact that she fed him scraps."

Jack lifted a brow. "So...?"

"So, no. There isn't a rule. Familiars can be pretty cool, but it's not a requirement. There aren't a whole lot of rules that we all agree on, aside from the ones about fairies that can generally be summed up with the word 'don't'." Once he was finished with his sketch, or at least satisfied with it, Gabriel turned to pick up his palette and sat down on the barstool he'd brought in to start picking out colors. The right blues, the right yellows. He'd probably need to mix things a bit to get it all figured out. "Unless it's a house brownie. Those are useful. Hate inner cities, but still useful."

"What about like, crystals and incantations and all that stuff? Aside from the things that I probably shouldn't shove my nose into 'cause, y'know, white."

"Good for if you're doing generalized magic or alchemy beyond your specialization. Not my thing, to be honest." He started with the yellow, pulling out browns and tans and whites. A dab of each, and then the palette knife to mix them. The smell of it was strong - stronger than the lingering smell of Art Things that permeated the room in general - but comforting by association. "Ana could tell you more than I could, but apparently if you're stubborn and determined enough, with the right spellbooks you can still tap into the ley lines even if you don't have any innate magic of your own."

"Huh." Jack wouldn't remember any of this, but it was still relaxing to be able to talk to him about it. To teach someone, even if it wouldn't stick. Gabriel couldn't even tell his therapist about this shit. "Guessing that's not a problem for me, though."

Gabriel smiled. "No." He went to reach for another tube of paint, and another. Tube, dab, mix, repeat. On and on until he had enough colors to start something and have it turn out okay-ish. "Lucid dreaming is one of those that's... Kinda scary, really. You can use it to fuck people up if you can manage to get into their dreams while you're both asleep."

"Sounds like a paranormal investigator's field day," Jack murmured.

"Yeah, those guys are full of shit."

"Moreso than they would be if magic weren't real?"

"It's more that because it's real, the bullshit they spew gets gullible young witches killed. Like gun safety, but with spontaneous combustion."

"So that's why that happens."

It was one reason, sure. "Any other questions?" The first stroke of paint on canvas was always an odd moment for Gabriel. That first splash of color, unable to be undone, only covered up with subsequent strokes. Somehow, it being a personal project didn't make that first bright swish of blue any less less of a Thing than it did for assignments or commissions. If anything, it was more important, because it was important _to him_.

Another stroke, and another, and yet another, until he fell into the rhythm of painting that was less confidence and more muscle memory. Jack seemed oblivious to the process, but was fascinated by the result all the same. "Uh, well. Not, not really," he stammered. "I guess I don't know enough to even know what to ask yet."

"We've all been there, sunshine." He gave Jack a second to say something more, and when that didn't happen, he continued, "--y'know, if you're out of shit to talk about, we could always turn on some music. It's what I usually do when I do this." If he didn't have a skype call handy, anyway.

"Oh! Yeah, lemme just..." Gabriel had to smile again as Jack shuffled and fussed, disoriented and tired but still trying. "What, what kind of music...?"

"Surprise me."

"O-okay, I guess I can, uh, do that--" More fussing and a muffled curse as Jack searched, giving Gabriel the mental image of him rifling through a shelf full of CDs. "Fuck, okay. Hang on a sec. I've got a playlist that'll work for this, I swear."

Then about a minute later, the room was filled with the sounds of vaguely obscure indie prog rock. It wasn't showtunes, but it'd do; Jack's musical tastes tended towards being hopeful and bright, just like he was. Good to paint to, with less risk of getting distracted by the urge to sing along. Not that this stopped them from singing along occasionally, because they were nerds. Nerds that were staying up 'til 1 AM painting and listening to music and chatting.

Gabriel went to bed that night with a paint smudge on his nose and the thought that it wasn't so bad for a last night together, just like he had the past couple of nights before. And just like the last couple of mornings, Jack was still there when he woke up. Exhausted, but there.

But when he got home from work that day - unable to fake another sick day without taking a hit to his pay - Jack was gone. In his place, there was only a flat image. Lifeless and stiff, in spite of the layers and detail and dynamic shading and care put into painting it.

Quietly, Gabriel closed his laptop. Then he ripped it from its place at his desk and flung it across the room so hard that the lid snapped off when it hit the far wall.

 


	10. loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That whole thing about how it's better to have loved and lost is probably bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably didn't do very well with portraying it, but there's SUPPOSED to be a tonal shift when Gabriel's got dream logic going on. He's more chill, he doesn't question things. Just sort of rolls with it when things happen, like, he's more reactive than proactive. You'll have to let me know whether I did alright with that or not though. 
> 
> Once this is posted, I get to go edit the second-to-last chapter, which I wrote while on 4 hours of sleep over a 48 hour period. that'll be fun.

Life went on. It always did. The universe didn't see a reason to feel the same way Gabriel did; it hadn't before, and it didn't seem like it was going to start anytime soon, either. He was reminded of the day of his stepmother's funeral and its bright cloudless sky, of the songs that would play on the radio that made his mom cry no matter how much he wanted to shout "can't you see we're grieving?" whenever the first notes would play.

Most artists would say he had every excuse, every right to give up on art for a while. But Gabriel was not most artists, and so he kept going. Painting on endless autopilot, with the familiar weight of a brush in his hand keeping him grounded in those first few days better than anything else ever could.

After a couple of days, he got a new computer; a desktop this time, with a proper monitor and all the associated bits that he hadn't needed before. He asked the techs at the store specifically for something that had enough RAM to not catch fire. The whole setup barely fit on his desk, but he didn't think he wanted to deal with the mental association of having another laptop's silhouette to taunt him out of the corner of his eye just then. Better to have something obviously different than something that could give him that tiny scrap of hope in the morning when he first saw it.

He knew he wasn't okay. But if he kept his obsessing to just his paintings (and forced himself not to try animating them) then maybe, maybe he could tell himself that he was handling it somewhat well. Better than he had in the past, at least, although that was only if he counted it as a loss instead of a break-up. Compared to break-ups he'd had, he was being the biggest goddamn whiny baby about it.

(This was why he quickly stopped comparing it to a break-up, at least in his head. He still explained it as such to people who asked why he was breaking down in the middle of the aisle during his shift at work when certain songs came on, but that was because magical explanations never went over well.)

For those first few days, his dreams were normal and unmemorable aside from the way he always felt like there was something just outside his vision, something he was trying to find. He'd catch glimpses of it out of the corner of his eye, a spot of vibrant color that was gone whenever he turned his head. He'd go in the direction he thought it went, but by then it had disappeared, leaving him to wake up feeling alone.

"If you need anything, all you have to do is ask," Ana told him that weekend, as Fareeha eagerly talked at the quiet girl from down the street; the other girl was mostly nonverbal, but enough communication had apparently gone on between them for both of them to have handhelds out as they traded Pokemon. As for Gabriel, Fareeha wasn't speaking to him at all, not since he'd told her that Jack was gone. To be fair, it'd be easy enough to bribe his way back into the good graces of a five year old, but a part of him liked not being alone in his misery just a bit too much to try.

"Everything's fine, Ana," he said. "I can handle this."

"Of course you can. But as for whether or not you can handle it _well_ , that's another matter entirely." Ana pursed her lips as Fareeha and her little friend both plopped down in the dewy grass by the side of the apartment building's parking lot, and said little friend proceeded to start plucking absently at whatever grass was near her hand only to deposit it on the folds of her dress. "They're going to come back with so many stains."

"They're kids. Stains happen."

"Normally I'd agree with you, but Satya's foster mother is a shrew of a woman. I'll have to clean the pair of them up before she comes to collect her daughter, or else she'll call Fareeha and I bad influences." Ana gave a long, tired sigh. "I worry for that girl, I really do."

"You worry about everyone," Gabriel noted. "Could always just adopt her."

Ana laughed. "Oh, if only. Just having one is already enough of a handful." Meanwhile, Fareeha had noticed the grass-picking and joined in, but the fact that she was grabbing the tufts by their roots and coming up with great gobs of dirt in the process earned her a mortified look from little Satya. "But really, Gabriel. You don't have to be alone in this."

Gabriel was quiet for a moment. Then, he headed up the stairs and back to his own apartment, shaking his head. "Tell Fareeha I said hi, okay?"

That night, just as every night since Jack had left, he went to bed with paint under his nails and clinging to his knuckles in a dry film that he hadn't bothered to fully scrub off. He fell asleep to the tune of the sort of not-quite-silence that only city life can provide, with faint car alarms and sirens cutting through the poor insulation to punctuate his thoughts even as he drifted off.

And this time, his dreams weren't quite so bland.

\---

His dream's setting? Graduation day.

The hat was stupid. It made his scalp itch, and he was sweating under the robe he was supposed to wear over his clothes. The voice of the woman at the podium was muffled, as if coming from underwater, and everything was a little bit hazy at the edges. And there was a _tug_ at his awareness, a pull he couldn't find the source of when he turned his head to look down the rows but knew was there.

His name was called, suddenly clear. _Gabriel Reyes_. He got up, walked to the podium. It felt vaguely like he was walking through knee-high mud as he climbed the steps away from the unseen pull to accept his degree, which was heavy as lead in his hands. He turned back to the crowd, scanning it out of habit.

There it was-- a flash of blond that stood out from the vague faces, the painted hats and dull robes. Standing up in the very back, eyes on him. Blue eyes. Gabriel blinked, and those pretty eyes blinked back; recognition flickered in them. He took a step forward, stumbled on the stairs.

And when he caught himself, he was on his front steps. No, wait, not his-- his mom's from back when he was in high school, because the old dead tree that'd had a wasp's nest in it was just a stump next to the road. It was the house she'd owned with his stepmom. The sky was clear, or clear as the skies over LA could get, anyway, and the cicadas were yelling like they always did at the height of summer.

And right there in front of him, standing next to the mailbox that mamá had painted with him during spring break in fifth grade, there was Jack. Young, tall, gorgeous Jack, with perfectly close-cropped military hair and a little less meat on his bones than Gabriel remembered from all those selfies. 

"It's you," Jack whispered. "I found you."

Gabriel could hardly breathe. "Jack?"

"I've been trying for days, I-I just--" Jack squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head quickly. "I just wanted to know. I had to know for sure that I didn't just make you up--"

"You didn't." It would've been physically impossible for Gabriel to close the gap in the time that he did if this were real, but dream logic didn't care about that. "I'm right here, sunshine, it's okay."

"But what if I've made that up too? What if it's just in my head?" A hand came up so Jack could press the heel of his palm against his eyes, shaking his head again. "Fuck, I don't know, I can't tell anymore. Nothing's been okay since I woke up. Even my therapist thinks I've lost it."

"Hey, no, don't start thinking like that." Gabriel met almost no resistance when he reached out to take Jack by the shoulders and haul him in close. The whole world narrowed down to how those eyes snapped open and stared right at Gabriel, inches away, with Jack's hands moving to cling tightly to his shirt. "Just breathe, okay? Shh."

Jack took in a deep, shuddering breath, leaning forward so that their foreheads touched. He was so warm, so solid. He felt so real. "I'm scared, Gabe," he mumbled. "What if they lock me up? I dunno if I can take going back into a psych ward again."

Oh, the lessons Jack never learned... "We never tell people about our magic if we're not sure they can handle it, Jackie," Gabriel said. "But I guess I forgot to mention that, huh?"

Sniffling, Jack nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Then that's on me." He shifted to cup Jack's face in his hands, stroking with his thumbs. Their dream-selves were younger, less matured; Jack was taller than he was by a good two inches at least, even making allowances for the uneven sidewalk, but Gabriel's dreaming mind barely registered the discrepancy.

Eventually Jack's breathing evened out somewhat, his eyes fluttering shut as he let his hands fall flat against Gabriel's chest, smoothing over the fabric of his shirt. Their noses touched, tip to tip. "I, uh," Jack cleared his throat, let out a nervous laugh, " _hah_ , if you don't want me to I won't but, uh. I kinda wanna kiss you right now."

Gabriel had to smile. "Kinda thinking the same thing myself," he admitted.

Then Jack laughed again, and after that there was no telling who made the first move, just that the first move had been made; that they met somewhere in the middle, tentative at first, then clumsy, coming apart just long enough to breathe before trying again and coming up with something almost-but-not-quite fantastic. But just when it was getting to something _really_ good, with hands wandering and Jack making the most delightful sounds against his mouth, he was jerked back to and wakefulness by his alarm clock, blaring loudly right next to his ear-- leaving him sweaty, dissatisfied, and pitching one hell of a tent, with the sun pouring through the spaces between blinds and a neighborhood dog barking somewhere down the street.

Later, as he considered what little he remembered over his dream over his breakfast of donuts and coffee, he eventually came to the conclusion that it meant one of two things: either his subconscious was actively fucking with him, or Jack actually remembered him and was actually trying to contact him. And honestly, he wasn't sure which option worried him more.

Either way, Gabriel had a feeling he wasn't going to stop being distracted anytime soon.

 


	11. horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thus continues the third act.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's almost ALL DREAM SEQUENCE. There's a lot of clues here about both of their backstories, and this chapter's honestly the reason I bumped the rating a bit ago (could probably have gotten away with teen, but I'd rather be safe than sorry). Sorry it took so long to get it put up here; I had it written out a while back, but I've been heavily distracted with relocating to Anywhere But Houston No Really Fuck This City.
> 
> The next chapter's going to be posted from my new residence in Anywhere But Houston No Really Fuck This City, so it might take a couple days, but I've written through most of chapter 13 and should be finished completely by tomorrow if luck holds. Fair warning though, I'll probably be wrestling with my internet hardcore when I get there.
> 
> (my kitten doesn't know we're moving yet. she's just confused by all the noise and running around. she will Not Be Happy when she learns I got her a leash. here's hoping I won't get my face scratched off)

That night wasn't the only time Jack came to see him while he slept. In fact, it was just the start.

It was impossible for Gabriel to predict which nights Jack would visit him in his dreams, because their sleep schedules were almost impossible to sync up. Somewhere between a three hour time zone difference, Gabriel having to keep certain hours because of work, and Jack having no schedule to speak of because he was still in recovery, Gabriel's methodical and planning-oriented brain was deeply annoyed by the unpredictability of it all.

But the fact that it was unpredictable made Gabriel that much more sure that it was Jack he was seeing after all, and not a construct of his own subconscious mind. Between that and a little late-night research on lucid dreaming, he was almost totally certain that on some level, it was real.

Almost.

Yeah. The possibility was still there that it was just his overactive imagination fucking with him. No matter how much evidence he had that it could be real, there was nothing to disprove that it was fake. Thus he spent more and more time keeping to himself, and painting, and exhausted because he'd tried to rework his sleep schedule and it'd led to his performance at work going to shit. He told no one what he saw, even Ana; no one else needed to know that he might be losing it, because then they'd worry.

Besides, it wasn't like he could do anything about it anyway. He wasn't the one who could affect the narrative of his dreams, Jack was. And even if he could do anything about it, he wasn't sure he wanted to. He was having fun.

One dream was by the beach at night, out on the southern end of the California coast with sand between his toes and the salty sea breeze in his nose. A bonfire was going on somewhere down the length of the beach, cheering and shouting and music echoing in his ears. Spring break during his freshman year, he guessed.

Then Jack came up from behind where Gabriel sat on the sand, easing himself down well within arm's reach. "Hey," he greeted, crossing his legs. "Sorry about the other night. I, uh... I'll understand if you think I went a little too far."

"It's fine," Gabriel said, catching the twitch in Jack's fingers out of the corner of his eye. So close. All he had to do was reach out. God, did he want to. "You'd know if I wanted you to stop."

Jack nodded, taking a breath and letting it out nice and slow. "I, I don't... I'm not sure what counts as too fast, or too slow. So if I fuck up on that, I need you to tell me."

Gabriel chuckled. "Y'know, that's supposed to be my line. Usually I'm the one that's too much for people."

"Yeah, well..." Jack's fingers dug into the sand, tense from his shoulders down. "Guess you're a bad influence on me. Making me feel like it's okay to want things."

"That's because it is," came the calm, uninhibited reply. That was another thing about dream-Gabriel; he did what he pleased, because no waking logic could tell him not to. "The question is, do we want the same things?"

Jack looked down at their hands, still not touching. Then at Gabriel, who was staring right back at him. He let his hand slide across the sand, fingers dragging through the grains, just to bring it closer. "I-I dunno," he stammered, "do we?"

Slowly, Gabriel's hand moved to cover Jack's, winding their fingers together. Jack's hand was surprisingly cool, clammy from the humid sea air and nervous sweat. He didn't miss how Jack inhaled sharply at the contact, tension bleeding away. "Wanna find out?"

A nervous gulp and a jerky nod was the answer, as Jack offered up a tiny smile. "If you'll let me," he said, looking to Gabriel for confirmation; when he got it in the form of another nod, he was quick to scoot himself right over to Gabriel's side and nestle up against him, letting out a content little hum once he was situated.

Thus, cuddling on the beach was what took up the content of much of the second dream, as Jack led the conversation and, by extension, the narrative. Why this beach? How old had he been then? Did Gabriel miss anyone he'd known back in college? Were the classes hard? On it went, until Gabriel woke in the morning with the smell of the ocean lingering in his nose and a tingly feeling in his fingers where he'd been holding onto Jack's hand, and he was forced to face the real world again.

He met Jack again five days later, his third dream set in an old laundromat that had since burned down, where his stepmother had always given him quarters for the arcade cabinets as a kid. Then again three days after that, in a theatre downtown that he'd taken his mom to when he had finally worked up the funds, now empty except for the two of them. The very next night, it was the public library where he used to hang out on weekends, but after that, it was a week until he was visited again.

And on that night, it was in his old dorm, with Gabriel bent over his drafting table at around the ass-end of midnight or so. Artblocked, but in a dreamlike way; his pencils were all the wrong hardness levels, so he was left constantly erasing lines that refused to come out right.

Now, Dream-Gabriel did not hold onto the same annoyance at the irregularity of the schedule. Dream-Gabriel was not focused on his worry at Jack not having shown up for a week. Nor did Dream-Gabriel share his waking self's irritation over how _fucking useless_ his subconscious self was at gathering enough information to make proper judgment calls with. Which meant that when Jack walked in halfway through his dream, his dreaming self did not react with anything remotely close to the appropriate amount of shock, sputtering, and telling Jack to stop fucking scaring him like that.

Instead, when the door opened, Gabriel sighed and put his pencil down. "Is this about the hole in the wall? I swear it was an accident."

There was the _flump_ of a bag hitting the floor, with Jack's voice hinting at a grin even before Gabriel looked up. "Right. This must be your dorm room, huh?"

Gabriel leaned back in his seat with a long sigh, giving Jack a once-over. This dream had their ages synced again to the time Gabriel was inhabiting, even if some hadn't. He knew this because his own hair was falling into his eyes in a mess of dark curls, and Jack's was a fluffy mop that stuck up in every direction. "Pretty sure you don't have a key, Jack."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure I'm the master of all space and time here, so..." Jack made a gesture at the door, a wave of his hand; it closed and latched behind him, and he smiled. "See? Been practicing."

"Nice trick," Gabriel remarked, folding his arms. "But you're not the boss of me."

"Well, I mean, I probably could be. Wouldn't be hard." Jack yanked off his USMC hoodie and draped it over Gabriel's lamp, partially obscuring the light from it and casting a shadow over a good chunk of the room.

A slow smirk spread across Gabriel's face. "Just gonna make yourself right at home, huh."

Jack held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, if you want me to leave, I'll leave. Just..." Then, those very same hands were jammed into the pockets of his jeans. The so-called master of all time and space, fidgeting like a nervous schoolboy. "Just thought you might worry about me if I didn't come back, that's all."

Sighing, Gabriel sat up straighter in his chair and moved to gently coax Jack's hands out of his pockets, taking them into his own. "What's wrong, Jack?"

"I-I..." Jack bit his lip as their fingers wound together, giving Gabriel's hands a squeeze. "I'm not under observation anymore, but uh..." He closed his eyes and his features pinched up into a frown. "I got scared again. That, uh, that you're not real. And with all the shit going on at home, I couldn't quite focus enough to find you again because my head's just a fucking mess right now, so I'd try and then I'd lose it and be back in my own dreams."

Gabriel pressed soothing kisses to Jack's knuckles, humming thoughtfully. "And now?"

"Now? Well... I guess I just-- I-I wanted to see you, Gabe." Jack tightened his grip faintly. "I had to."

"Missed me that much?" Gabriel teased.

Jack ducked his head. "I... Yeah. I guess I do."

That was enough. "Then c'mere." Leaning back again, Gabriel tugged Jack forwards by his hands, urging him to step up closer to the chair. "Let me give you something good to remember me by."

"What're you gonna do?" Jack's knees bumped the edge of the chair, just as Gabriel spread his legs to make room; when he let go of Jack's hands, it was for the sake of sliding them up under Jack's shirt. His fingers were calloused, and Jack's skin was soft, and the shaky little gasp he earned by exploring it was perfect.

Gabriel leaned forward to kiss it, just because he could. "Something you'll like," he mumbled. "Just stop me if I go too far, okay?"

Jack shivered under his hands, threading fingers into his hair. "Okay."

(Much to his dismay as he tried to actually do his damn job the next day, the image of Jack spread out over his drafting table as seen from between the pretty farmboy's legs was _not_ a part of his dream that managed to get lost in the void of his waking mind's tendency to forget shit.)

\---

There was one constant in all of Gabriel's dreams, be they with Jack or not - they were always in places that he had seen or been to, usually places he had some emotional connection to. And after two months, he'd gotten used to seeing Jack after he went to sleep. Not always, but often enough to be a thing. Enough for Gabriel to remember flashes, moments, images, details, feelings, all coming together to paint a more vivid picture over time. Enough to have context for who Jack was outside of who he'd been when Gabriel was all he had.

Or at least, he thought so. Until a night two months after Jack had left (enough time for Gabriel to have fallen into a routine that didn't involve spending every waking minute pining), after a sweltering-hot day helping Ana bring in a new fold-out couch plus the effort of making dinner left him too tired to do much more than watch dumb videos on the internet until he fell asleep-- a night that saw him visiting a place in his dreams that he'd never been to before in his life.

It was cold, first of all. Cold and overcast in a way that was utterly foreign to Gabriel, everything taking on a dulled and desaturated look with his breath coming out in visible puffs. He stood on a street corner, traffic going this way and that. To his left, there was a massive metal gate with speed bumps and traffic barriers on the streets going through it, with a brick guardhouse in the middle; on either side of the gate were tall brick fences as far as the eye could see going in either direction, topped with pseudo-decorative ironwork that was capped with thick spikes. Two people in military uniforms manned the guardhouse, with another two on either side of the gate standing vigil.

Then he looked across the street, and saw a familiar figure with blond hair buzzed down to peach fuzz sitting on the sidewalk on the other side, wringing his hands with his head bowed and a bag resting on the ground next to him.

God, he looked so thin and gangly.

"Jack?" Gabriel tried to say, but he wasn't heard the sound of the nearby local highway off to his right; with an irritated sigh, he cupped his hands over his mouth. " _Morrison!_ "

Almost as if there'd been a taser involved, Jack bolted upright and stopped wringing his hands long enough to stare. "Gabriel? What--"

"Don't know, don't care," Gabriel shouted back. Then he swung his arm out to bring it back in a beckoning gesture. "Come on, get your ass over here, I'm cold."

Jack bubbled up with a laugh as he sprung to his feet, picking up his bag to sling it over his shoulder. He ducked through the traffic like an expert, smiling. "The hell are you doing here? Pretty sure you've never been to North Chicago before."

"You tell me, sunshine. Pretty sure this is your dream, not mine." Gabriel caught Jack's hands up in his the moment he was close enough to do so. "You look like shit, by the way."

"That'd be because this is where I tend to go when I feel like shit," Jack replied. Then he frowned slightly, tilting his head. "You... Know this is a dream?"

Gabriel blinked. It took him a second to catch on. "Oh."

It seemed like Jack couldn't help his grin. "You're actually lucid, aren't you?"

"I-- maybe?" Gabriel went over the facts in his mind. Then he realized he _could_ go over the facts in his mind. "This is me doing this, isn't it."

"Could be. If you were in the right kind of mindstate when you went to sleep, I guess. You've gotta be calm." Jack's good cheer faltered. "I know I wasn't."

"Why?" The cold was biting at Gabriel's cheeks, his nose, his ears. His fingers were freezing, and Jack's hands weren't much better. Even the inside of his nose tickled. "What's wrong? Something happen?"

Jack chewed his lip. With both of them younger in this particular dream, he was taller again, but not as much as he had been at other, earlier synced-up ages. "I. I did something that's, uh. Kinda stupid."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "How stupid are we talking?"

"Pretty fucking dumb, actually." In spite of that, Jack still tried to give a Gabriel a reassuring grin. "Nothing illegal though. Don't worry."

"Still leaves a lot of room for interpretation, Jackie. I mean, technically, sticking a light bulb up your ass is considered legal."

"The _fuck_ kind of things did you do in college."

"I didn't have to do shit. I have weird-ass friends who have even more weird-ass friends. It's called networking."

"You worry me."

"Says the guy who won't tell me what stupid shit he did."

Jack didn't have anything to say to that, as he did that thing where he looked at anything and everything that wasn't eye contact with Gabriel. "It doesn't matter," he said eventually. "I made my choice, and I'll handle the consequences."

"Because that's not ominous at all," Gabriel deadpanned; Jack's flinch told him he'd struck a nerve. "Look," he sighed, "just. Tell me I don't have to worry about meeting your anxious ass as an _actual_ ghost, and I won't bug you about it."

"You won't," Jack assured. "I--if it doesn't pan out I'll probably just. Head home again."

Gabriel leaned in for a kiss, short and sweet. "Works for me."

 


	12. reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have never loved myself, but oh, God, I loved you so much I forgot what hating myself felt like."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS I'M POSTING FROM NOT-HOUSTON
> 
> I MIGHT HAVE WORKED MYSELF SICK AND I THINK I HAVE A FEVER
> 
> _BUT I CAN FUCKING BREATHE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN YEARS_
> 
> HAVE A CHAPTER IT HAS FEELINGS REGARDING MENTAL ILLNESS AND ALSO A HAPPY THING
> 
> THE NEXT CHAPTER MIGHT BE EITHER THE LAST OR SECOND-TO-LAST IDK BUT I DID PROMISE THAT HAPPY ENDING AND I INTEND TO DELIVER
> 
> (yes, my kitten is happy with this change also. her asthma hasn't acted up once since we got here. she can't stop telling me about all the birds outside the window and she's taken to headbutting me and purring. so, aside from me overdoing it a bit, everyone's content with the current situation. i know some of you were worried about that.)

It wasn't the middle of summer, not by a long shot, but by the standards of most places it was as hot as the middle of summer generally tends to be. Luckily, the craft place Gabriel worked at had the kind of industrial-grade air conditioning that kept entire shopping malls cool at peak hour, so as long as he avoided the doors, he'd avoid the heat. And as long as he kept himself occupied, he'd be able to avoid thinking about what Jack had said the night before, too.

Hard not to feel bad for the cashiers closer to the door, though.

"Y'know, if the manager finds out you're using that fan from off the shelf, she's gonna be pissed," Gabriel remarked, stacking shelves near the checkout counters full of doodads for the scrapbooker moms' bored kids. The really good shit went down near the floor so it'd be at a good grabby height, but the more adult-oriented the memes and How-To's and multitools got, the higher they were placed; at that moment, he was neatly arranging a row of Grumpy Cat plushes not too far off from a shelf full of novelty shot glasses.

His co-worker huffed in irritation. "I've got a receipt, Reyes," she said. "Bought it fair and square. And even if I hadn't, someone had already used most of the battery anyway. I had to replace it."

"It isn't even that hot yet, Liao."

"Then I suppose I'm just a delicate little flower," she replied with a mock-sigh. "I can't wait 'til my shift's over. My glasses fog every time the door opens."

"Wait, really?" Gabriel poked his head over the shelf and leaned over it to peer at the petite, bespectacled college student.

She rolled her eyes. "They're not doing it right _now_. The door's not open."

"I could pull the fire alarm. Then it'd get some foot-traffic real quick."

"You're a prick, know that?" She went back to her counter, meticulously re-arranging her coupons, gift cards, and brochures for the bazillionth time to appear busy; the fan was clicked off and set down, and the hairs that had stuck to her forehead were brushed out of the way. "Why are you so chipper lately? I honestly preferred you when you were brooding."

Definitely hadn't been in college long if she couldn't tell the difference between being chipper and being a ball of jangly nerves. "First of all, I can't take that word seriously because it makes me think of a goose trying to hatch a bunch of eggs--"

She growled. " _Fine._ When you were doing your strong silent type thing, then."

"--second, I'm always a strong silent type," he concluded. "I am the picture-perfect example of an antihero."

"More like Victor Von Doom. Or Magneto."

"No, I'm totally Ghost Rider. Or Luke Cage."

"The Joker," she shot back. "Or even Loki."

Gabriel opened his mouth, then shut it again as he thought about that. "I. Would be okay with being Loki." He held up his hands, one of them still holding a Grumpy Cat. "Before you say anything, I mean the Norse mythology version, not the MCU version." A pause. "Y'know, now that I think about it, Magneto would be cool too."

"They're _villains_."

"Hey, just because he's an antagonist doesn't make Magneto evil. And Loki's just the god of chaos, he's not the devil."

"See? I rest my case." She pointed a stern, steady finger right at his nose. "You're a terrible person who stands up for villains. Playing right into their hands."

Before Gabriel could form a suitably witty reply, a callout came over the intercom-- a spill. Judging by the aisle it was in, it was probably beads. He and his co-worker exchanged a knowing look.

"I'll bet it was the woman who was in here earlier with the screamer," she said flatly. "None of the ones who've come through in the past half hour look like jewelry types, and that kid was awfully handsy."

Yeah, Gabriel figured that was a safe bet. People who broke shit were less likely to be the ones to report shit, unless they were looking to get it at a discount. And if they hadn't come to the front counter to report it, they weren't. "Looks like a job for our resident antihero," he said, picking up the crate that had the last plushes he'd been unloading. The shelf was already full, he'd just been trying to find a way to stuff more in without messing up their faux fur. "Try not to overheat too badly, got it?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll survive." As he headed back to the other end of the store, he heard the whirring of the teeny handheld fan start up again the moment his back was turned.

He already missed how good holding a conversation was as distractions went.

\---

Two facts were important to the next few minutes of Gabriel's life, the first being that beads made for the _worst_ spills. They necessitated being careful about stepping around them to avoid falling on one's ass, and often came in shitty packaging that involved way too many of the fucking things stuffed into a single bag, which meant they couldn't be counted easily and thus one could never be sure if they'd all been dealt with. All it took was one little shit of a child tearing a couple of packages open to turn most of an aisle into an obstacle course covered in tiny glass shards and round little trip hazards.

And the second fact? Gabriel had been distracted enough that morning to leave his phone at home, which meant all of Ana's calls and texts to him had reached naught but an empty apartment (well, except for the spider living in the cabinet under the bathroom sink, but Gabriel and that spider had an arrangement that involved him staying the fuck away from it and it staying the fuck away from him and no one having to get bitten or squashed as a result).

Now, Ana knew where Gabriel worked. He knew where she worked, too; after her divorce, they'd become each others' emergency contacts out of a lack of better options. But they also worked similar hours, so they also knew that if one was contacting the other while at work, either it was a painfully slow day or something very big was going on.

Thus his immediate thought when she poked her head into the aisle he was in was something along the lines of _oh God, what now_.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together; her hijab today was a soft off-white color with a faint sheen, and her accompanying shirt was a muted grey. "I've been trying to call you all day."

He frowned, pausing in his sweeping. "Uh. Kinda busy."

Ana waved it off. "Yes, yes, I know, your shift doesn't end for--"

"For another hour." Leaning against his broom's handle, he peered at her curiously. "Everything okay?"

"What? Oh! Yes, everything's fine, except--"

"Except?"

Ana opened her mouth to answer, then shut it again as a weird look passed across her features. "You know? I think it would be easier to just show you. Stay here a moment, won't you?"

Gabriel could only blink at her. "Okay? Not like I can go anywhere else..."

"Right, yes, good." She gave him an abortive wave - "This won't take long," she said - and then quickly spun on her heel to march back up front, leaving him to stare after her for all of about ten seconds before he shrugged and returned to his work.

Not two minutes later, she was back again; he stopped sweeping the moment he heard the sound of her heels against the uneven linoleum, and leaned against his broom once more as he waited for her to come into view.

"All right, I know this will be a bit much at first, but," she stepped into the middle of the aisle, fully out in the open, and then glanced off to her left at something Gabriel couldn't see, "but... Well, come on. Don't be shy."

Out of view, whoever it was sucked in a breath. "I--"

Ana made a noise of utter frustration and clip-clopped her way back over, yanking on a sleeve and earning a squawk of protest. "Come _on_ ," she urged, pulling a figure into view. A tall figure. First a sleeve, then an arm and then a shoulder, into a torso and a neck and a face and blond hair and--

Gabriel's broom clattered to the floor.

"He showed up at my parlor," Ana explained. "Apparently your name is more common than mine, and that makes you a great deal harder to find."

"I-I tried," Jack stammered. Real and solid in front of him, nothing and everything like a painting come to life. Nothing, because Gabriel could never do him justice; everything, because he was still just as expressive as Gabriel remembered him being, just as worthy of the attempt anyway. "It's just, I've never had to, uh... Find anyone. So it was hard. A-and then I thought, well, what if he thinks I'm a stalker or something. So I gave up and went looking for Ana, since at least she could maybe give it to me straight and tell me if I had a chance or not, or if I-I should just go home..."

Gabriel took a good, long look at Jack as he babbled, drinking in the sight of him. He was different now; his formerly straight, perfect nose had a hook in it, he looked a little on the thin side, and there was an angry, newly-healed scar that ran diagonally through the center of his brow from the left side of his forehead to his right cheekbone. His jaw had a layer of fine, light stubble. Even his eyes, bright as they were, showed the telltale signs of sleeplessness.

He looked like he was running on fumes, determination, and a not-inconsiderable amount of caffeine. "I understand if you're weirded out by this," Jack said, "You don't-- I don't need anything from you, if you don't feel comfortable with this. I can go, just... _God_ , I can't believe you're actually here."

Something in Gabriel's mind clicked. "You came all this way for me?"

Jack let out a weak laugh. "I know, put it like that and it's--"

"Hey, no. Don't even." The moment he caught his voice taking a stern edge, Gabriel immediately softened. "It's just hard to believe someone would do that just for me."

Blinking a bit, Jack's expression sank as he processed Gabriel's words. "Why is that hard to believe?"

"He doesn't think he's worth it," Ana told him gently, and Gabriel's jaw clenched as he bit back his reply. Not here; it'd just upset Jack.

Except Jack was already upset. "You don't--" His voice cracked, and he paused long enough to swallow thickly and start over. "How is that possible? I can't see how anyone could _not_ love you."

"You'd be surprised, sunshine," Gabriel said, a quiet murmur. "A guy like me doesn't exactly make a whole lot of friends."

"But you're-- Gabe, I-I've never met anyone like you. I've never known anyone who was as good, a-and funny, and honest, and..." Jack took a second to breathe, shaking his head as if to clear it. "You're, you're not anything like the kind of person you think you are. You're so much more talented and smart than I'll ever be, so much better than anyone I've ever met that I don't even think I have the words to describe it."

"I'm not," Gabriel mumbled. "Not any of that."

"Why not?"

"Because I couldn't let go of you." It was so simple, at least to Gabriel. "And now that you're here, I can't bring myself to tell you to go even though I should."

Jack's brow furrowed. "How can you even think that?"

"Your family's fucked, but you know that," Gabriel said. "You're prepared for it. Me? If I hurt you, it'd break you."

"Gabe..." Jack huffed a weak laugh. "I'm not afraid of that. A lot of things scare me, sure, but... Not you."

" _I'm_ afraid of me," Gabriel shot back.

Inhaling sharply, all Jack could do for several seconds was stare. "What-- what happened?"

Gabriel glanced at Ana, who knew him well enough to know the answer. Ana met his gaze sadly, unflinching; she'd never agreed with his self-assessment, but she couldn't deny the evidence that there was something there to be wary of, that there were drawbacks to how intense he could be. "I'm kind of a mess, Jack," he said. "You don't need my problems in your life."

"And because of that, you want me to go," Jack concluded; Gabriel shook his head.

"What I want doesn't matter."

"So you want me to stay?"

Gabriel flinched. "Jack--"

Just as Jack's trip across the country had been impulsive, so, too, was the way he sprang forward suddenly, without regard for the mess on the floor.

Inevitably, he slipped. And when he did, he fell right into Gabriel's arms. He brought his hands up for Jack to steady himself with unthinkingly, without a hint of hesitation, even as Jack was clinging to Gabriel's work apron for deer life to keep from slipping again. "Hey, careful--"

"Look, just." Jack lifted his head to look Gabriel in the eyes, chewing on his lip. "Tell me you don't want me and I'll go, but otherwise? Stop acting like I don't know what I'm getting into."

"Do you, though?"

"I'm crazy too, dumbass!"

Everything was quiet for a while in the wake of Jack's outburst. All Gabriel found himself doing was staring, even as Jack loosened his grip a little and buried his face in that dingy apron with a tired, exasperated sigh.

"I mean," Jack mumbled, "you want this, right?"

Gabriel let go with one hand, bringing it up to cup Jack's cheek, scruffy under his palm. Tracing the edge of the scar with his thumb. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't," he admitted.

Jack leaned into the touch with eyes half-shut. "Me too," he said, "but I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, either."

Gabriel got a chuckle out of that. "Hey, if I don't get to say shit like that, you don't either."

"Well, I mean. At least my crazy and self-deprecation don't keep me from going for what I want," Jack noted.

"Yeah, but my meds are for keeping me from getting punchy and swingy. Yours are the ones that handle depressive shit."

"Mm." Jack pulled back enough to smile before leaning in for an achingly soft and gentle kiss that was too much and not enough at the same time, all chapped lips and rough stubble and perfection. "Good excuse," he murmured.

Then there was _ka-chk_ of a camera phone, and Gabriel could only sigh; Jack turned his head to blink at the sound, but Gabriel didn't have to look to know what it was.

He knew Ana too well for that. "You two are adorable."

"I hate you," he told her.

"No you don't," she replied, taking another photo.

 


	13. memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we reach the last of my backlog. After this, the last chapter will be one I have to write without a buffer. It may wait 'til I'm no longer sick, but it also might not, who knows. Now that I'm out of Houston, even my "sick" state is still better than what my old baseline was. Fuck that city, dude, seriously. 
> 
> I hope this chapter can give y'all some smiles. It was fun to write.

Things weren't quite as simple as Jack had said they'd be, of course, but it was more for logistics reasons than anything else. Having arrived by bus, Jack had a good portion of his stuff - what little he had - stashed away in a hotel room he'd gotten in case his search went too long without results or a place to stay, while the rest was in Ana's car. Gabriel wasn't able to leave work just yet either, so that left Jack with a couple of hours to kill and not a whole lot to do.

So, just to get it out of the way, Gabriel tossed Jack his keys so he could transfer his stuff over. "It's a black '04 Crown Vic, parked it by the cart return," he explained. "Just don't take it for a joyride."

"I can drive," Jack protested. "I just don't have a car, that's all."

"Really."

"Yeah. Drove my dad's truck all the time."

"Pretty sure your dad's truck isn't a refurbished police interceptor with no governor, Jack."

Jack looked like he was about to say something for a second, but reconsidered and shut his mouth. "Alright, yeah. That's fair."

Ten minutes later, Jack had returned to hand Gabriel's keys back with a very concerned look on his face.

"Ana headed out, said I was on my own," he said. "Did you know your car has a bullet hole?"

"It has three, actually. Had four, but I replaced the right rear window."

This did nothing to ease Jack's mortified look. "Rrright. Okay. Where, uh. Do I wanna know where the other two are? 'Cause the one I saw was in the inside paneling on the back seat driver's side door."

Gabriel smirked in the middle of stocking a shelf. "You must not've looked very hard. Driver's side inner panel down near the pedals - I think they were trying to go for the wheels with that one - and one on the inside of the trunk. Before I replaced the outer panel on that one, the damage on the outside was right near the gas cap."

"And you still bought it."

"Hey, it was cheap as fuck at the time. Plus, I know a guy who's a literal mechanical wizard. So damage wasn't really an issue, and parts are easy when you've got a fleet car like that." Sighing, Gabriel climbed down from the stepladder he'd been perched on and began folding it back up to stow it. "Got your phone?"

Jack blinked for a second, patting down his pockets. A low-end smartphone emerged. "Whatcha need?"

"Time."

"Oh!" He tapped the button to turn it on. "Four thirty-two."

"Alright, my shift's over in an hour and a half." Gabriel slung the folded stepladder over his shoulder. "There's a secondhand book place down the strip about half a block that way," here, Gabriel pointed to indicate the correct direction, "and a Game Stop not too far past it. I don't have any consoles, but I've got a new desktop, so if you wanna get something, make it PC. Books, though? Go nuts."

Jack nodded, locking his phone and re-pocketing it. "What about food?"

"I'll handle it when we get back to my place," Gabriel said. He didn't miss the way Jack's eyes seemed to light up with glee at the thought. "But if you need a drink, there's a cooler up front by the checkout."

"Okay." After considering for a moment, Jack stepped up to give Gabriel a quick kiss that was definitely not going to be the last one of the night. "See you soon, alright?"

Damn, did that ever have a nice ring to it in Gabriel's ears. "Yeah," he said. "I'll finish up here and then we can head home."

"I like the sound of that," Jack agreed. And honestly? Gabriel did too.

When they met up again later, Jack was at Game Stop pretending not to look at plushes. Gabriel got him two, a creeper and a Fennekin, and his glare kept him from being questioned by the cashier for getting them. The moment they were out of the store, he handed both toys to Jack, who hugged them tight and didn't let go until he had to for the sake of buckling his seatbelt.

It was just as adorable as Gabriel had thought it would be.

\---

On the way to the hotel, Jack explained how he'd gotten there. The bus ride had just been a part of it; it'd started with him making sure he'd stocked up on his meds, and once he'd done that, he'd nicked all the money from his parents' strongbox that he could manage to fit in his backpack. And even before that, he'd made sure that the doctors were satisfied enough with his condition to not have any more tests for him before he left.

"I don't think I needed that many, but I wanted to be sure," he explained. "I could've fucked something up by being out longer than I should've been, and I didn't wanna get here only to start having seizures or something."

He was also able to paint a clearer picture of the accident for Gabriel than he had previously, based on secondhand accounts and descriptions. A couple of teenagers had hit a patch of icy road and hit him; it wouldn't have been that bad if Jack hadn't also landed badly because of the ice, breaking his nose and generally fucking up his face. Jack had apparently still been coherent at that point, if badly disoriented.

"They took me to the hospital," Jack said. "There was a lot of blood. They weren't even thinking about the head injury aspect at that point."

As the teenagers had told it, Jack had already been drifting in and out of consciousness on the ride to the hospital. Eventually he simply passed out and didn't wake up again, but by that point he'd been under observation anyway because of the nature of his injuries, so tests were already being done to determine the severity of his condition.

Jack figured that after that, the rest was just down to timing; without Gabriel having done his magic at the right time to catch on the edges of Jack's subconscious mind just as he'd been trying and failing to dream like he always did, they never would've met. Jack said firmly that he didn't believe in things like fate, "but that doesn't make it less of a one-in-a-million coincidence." Gabriel laughed and told him not to tell Ana, but Jack sheepishly admitted that he already had, saying he'd regretted it immediately the moment he saw the look on her face.

There was a certain finality about emptying Jack's things out of the hotel room and checking him out when they were done. A moment where it finally hit Gabriel that it was all real, that it wasn't just a nice dream every now and then. That the lumpy bags slung over his shoulders, under his arms-- those were Jack's things, his life that he was gladly trusting Gabriel with. As the college-age kid behind the counter processed the rest of Jack's final transaction and Jack took the opportunity to sneak his hand over and wind his fingers in with Gabriel's own, it struck him that Jack was probably feeling something similar.

And judging by the way Jack tackled him in a fierce hug the second they were out the door, it wasn't a feeling that either of them was going to be particularly subtle about. "Come on," Jack told him, face lit up as bright as the sun with affection and fondness. "Let's go home."

It was around 7 PM when they got home with enough take-out to feed an army (or just two hungry twenty-somethings), loaded down with bags and cheap Chinese food. Jack was quick to dump most of his things on the floor, including a duffle that now had a couple of plushie heads sticking out of it, and head right for the kitchen for the sake of opening the freezer to stick his head in.

"Sweet relief," he sighed. "Is this like a freak heat wave or is it always this hot here?"

"This?" Gabriel shrugged, setting the bags down to take the food into the kitchen and get plates to put it on. He was no savage, after all. "This is nothing. It's not even summer yet."

"Christ. Looks like I'm never leaving the apartment again. Your car needs better AC, man."

"I'll work on it." Amused, Gabriel watched as Jack reluctantly closed the freezer to kneel down and sift through the fridge for a drink. From what he could see, the designated Wine For Mom was seriously considered for at least a few seconds. "Problem?"

Jack plucked out an offbrand Coke and shrugged. "Nope. Just so you know, if you hear distant shrieking when I open this, that's my mom pitching a fit about how I'm going to give myself kidney stones."

He cracked it open, and there was no shrieking. But the mental image made Gabriel smirk anyway. "And let me guess, she thinks cell phones cause cancer?"

"Mm. Hates GMOs and chemicals too."

"Did you tell her dogs are technically GMOs and everything is chemicals?"

"Tried to." Jack came over to where Gabriel was to reach over and pluck a piece of chicken from the take-out box it was in. Gabriel batted his hand away before he could sneak a second one. "At least with her it's just kind of... I dunno, mostly harmless and endearing if you ignore the voting record," he said through half a mouthful, surprisingly intelligible.

"Can't really ignore the voting record, Jack."

"I know." Jack didn't try to tack anything else onto his statement beyond that, instead leaning in to sneak in a quick kiss on Gabriel's cheek; Gabriel responded by hip-checking him, causing him to stagger. "Hey!"

"Not my fault you don't have enough meat on your bones to handle it," Gabriel shot back. "Stop trying to steal food and go unpack. Your choice where you wanna sleep, I've got a futon and a couch. Spare blankets are in the hall closet across from the bathroom."

"What if I wanna sleep with you?"

Gabriel paused long enough to give him a meaningful look. "Unless you brought condoms, I don't think that'll get too far."

"--oh. Oh! Yeah, okay, that's--" Jack bubbled up with a laugh, turning pink at the edges. "I mean, it's a good point, but it's not what I meant. Not completely, anyway. N-not that I'm saying I don't want that, 'cause I do, just. I meant, uh, actual sleeping." He averted his eyes, fingers digging into the countertop's surface. "With you."

For all the arguments Gabriel had that said it wasn't as great an idea as Jack seemed to think it was - especially for a couple of insomniacs with weird schedules - the look on the wayward blond's face reminded him a bit too much of a puppy anticipating a kick. "Alright," he said eventually, giving in. "Trial run."

"Great. Awesome. Okay." If Jack were any more nervous, he'd be vibrating. "I, uh. I'm gonna go set up. Is that corner by the window okay?"

Set what up? "Sure."

"Alright, thanks." Apparently tired of waiting for food to be divided into somewhat equal portions, Jack made his way over to his bags and plucked out one of the particularly weirdly shaped ones along with his laptop bag. Bringing them to the aforementioned corner - on the same side of the front room as the desk, opposite the TV and kitchen-space, next to the big front window - he set the bags down and began going through them, pulling out cords upon cords, what looked like a couple of odd foot pedals, his laptop, a power strip--

And a keyboard. A Yamaha keyboard with a big folding stand to hold it up at optimal playing height.

"It got dropped on the way here," Jack explained. "Need to see if it still works. I'll use headphones if you want."

"You kidding?" Gabriel grinned, bringing the finally equally divided food over to the raised part of the counter over where the barstools sat. He got a drink for himself from the fridge before he sat down, swiveling his chosen seat around to lean against the bar with his elbow and watch Jack get himself settled. "I never knew you could play."

Jack jerked his head away in a manner that suggested he was trying to hide his blush from view. "Yeah, well," he mumbled as he plugged things in, "it's not like it's a marketable skill. I only really brought it in case I needed to pawn it."

"People say the same thing about art, Jackie." Gabriel plucked a piece of chicken from his plate to pop it into his mouth, licking sauce off his fingers. "Just 'cause it's not marketable doesn't mean it's not a skill."

"I'm not that good," Jack insisted, even though he did so without any conviction behind it.

Just by his tone, Gabriel wanted to call bullshit. "Tell you what," he said. "Let me be the judge of that, okay?"

Everything was quiet for a few seconds except for the sound of Jack hooking things up, turning on his laptop, the keyboard itself. Waiting for it all to load, Jack planted his hands in the carpet and leaned back against them for a second. "Alright," he said finally, heaving himself up. "Is it okay if I borrow your desk chair?"

"Go ahead."

"Thanks." Jack didn't even bother to roll the chair over, simply lifting it up and carrying it to where he needed it. He was careful to scoot the laptop over with his foot so that it was well out of the way of the chair's wheels. "I might fuck up a lot. You sure you don't want me to use my headphones?"

Gabriel smiled, even as the implications of all Jack's politeness in the matter left an ache in his chest. Jack really was used to making himself as small and unobtrusive as possible, wasn't he? "Don't worry about it, sunshine." By that point, Gabriel was actually using a fork to eat instead of his fingers; he could only be a savage about it for so long.

He watched Jack ease down into the chair, listened to it creak under his weight. A few knobs were adjusted, buttons were poked at. A very brief rendition of Chopsticks was played, not a single note of it flubbed; Gabriel decided that could only bode well, and leaned back to observe as he ate.

"Play anything you like," he said. "Whatever springs to mind."

Jack bit his lip, nodded. His fingers hovered over the keys; he hit a note, a lone sound cutting through the stillness of the apartment. Then, tentative and slow, he hit that note again. Six times at an off-kilter beat, followed by a seventh note that was a step lower. A smile played across his face as he did it again, faster.

Gabriel sat up straighter in his chair. "You're not..." he said, unable to help his grin.

It was a grin that Jack mirrored as he played the notes again, followed this time by two quick chords while the seventh note lingered. The sequence gained speed and strength with each repetition. Then the seven note portion of the sequence was replaced by something more melodious, with the chords sticking around.

When Gabriel put down his fork in favor of snapping his fingers to the beat, it was like that was all the song needed to spring to life; Jack took it as his cue to bring in the melody line, the notes of the vocal ringing out loud and clear and bright. In that moment, Gabriel realized that he was probably in love.

And he figured it out to the tune of "Under Pressure".

　

 


End file.
